Kitty
by alimison
Summary: Kitty Bennet goes to visit her pregnant sister Elizabeth at Pemberley. Rewritten (with your suggestions) and completed!
1. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

Monday 30 March

And so I am off! Off, at last! Into the wild blue yonder. The thought that I am finally on my way to Pemberley makes me tremble with anticipation. To be almost-twenty and feeling very independent is marvellous. I am sure I do not know how I have borne the last months since both Lizzy and Jane, now Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley instead of the pretty Miss Bennets, went away. Only Father, Mama and Mary have been at home besides me, and have driven me to the very brink of mania, I am sure of it. Father, I suppose, has not – but you could not say that he has done anything to save me from it, either! He spends most of his time in his library, comes out at mealtimes alone, says not a word, and then returns to his library or goes for a solitary walk or something that does not involve any of us. Mama, as much as I love her, has seemed more and more like fingernails scraping on a chalkboard as time goes on, screaming for me whenever she thinks she needs something ("KITTY! Kitty! Come and do this!" or "Kitty! KITTY! Oh, drat the blessed girl, where has she got to?"), and Mary has sat and read her books or played her instrument and, all in all, ignored me.

But! Now I am AWAY! Off into the world at long last! I was forced to promise Father faithfully that I would not run away with a scoundrel like Lydia did – I wouldn't want to, in any case – and after many tearful embraces from Mama and a half-hearted goodbye and 'I'll miss you' from Mary, I managed to escape.

I am now sitting in a carriage bound for Derbyshire with my maidservant Betty, and no doubt you have realised already where I am; it is so bumpy my handwriting is very ill indeed. An hour has passed since I left Longbourn, and still my spirits are high and excited. I cannot sit still knowing I will be at Pemberley this time tomorrow and with my sister Elizabeth again! She is with child now, and the baby will be born in about a month and a half's time. That is one of the reasons I am going; she is not allowed to run about much in her usual style and live her normal sort of life, and I have to keep her company and help her with things she cannot manage. Maybe I will even be allowed to help her when the time comes for the baby to arrive.

I do hope we will be apprehended by a highwayman. What a thrilling adventure that would be! Father tells me that highwaymen have long since died out, but I do not believe him. In my mind, Dick Turpin and Black Bess will _always_ exist. I am forever loyal.

It will be interesting to see what Mr Darcy is like as a husband. He always seemed so stiff-backed and disagreeable, and although he is only about eight-and-twenty he seemed much older in terms of proud dignity, but while he courted Lizzy before their wedding, well, he suddenly became so different! He didn't change one jot, but … you just noticed more of him. His smiles, for instance. One day I suddenly noticed that he had the most beautiful smile in his eyes as he looked at Elizabeth, and I realised that he had always looked that way – you just never noticed, underneath that proud outer shell. He even roused himself to speak to me sometimes. I liked that. I fear this is becoming very garbled, for I find it very hard to explain myself in this instance. I will just give up and hope that you, diary, may understand what I mean to say.

By the way, diary, on beginning you, I am perfectly resolved to be absolutely truthful with you. Nothing shall be hidden. Lydia kept a diary for a very small amount of time once, and she only wrote about what she would have liked the redcoats to say to her, and not about what they actually did say. I do not think that is correct. As you see, I have high moral standards.

I wonder if there are any redcoats in Derbyshire?

Tuesday, March 31

I am finally here and so tired I can hardly pick up the pen. I had a most wonderful adventure today, not exactly highwaymen galore, but still exciting; our carriage overturned, just in time! It was about three miles out of Lambton that it happened, a silly little man called Archibald Walters trying to drive a phaeton much too fast came around a corner and knocked right into us. We went tumbling all around the place, all our luggage fell out, he went purplish red (he was very fat and unctuous), and tried to help, but only managed to get in the way. Just as I was about to get very angry indeed, another carriage drove up, and it was driven by the most elegant of men! Mr Walters turned even more puce and the most-elegant man gave him _such _a quelling look and he helped us, and took Betty and me to Pemberley! His name was Lord Gosford, and do you know what he said to me? "Miss Bennet, I am very glad your carriage capsized."

"And why is that, pray?" I asked (trying to be elegant).

"Because if it had not, I should have had to meet you at some demure little evening party where you would have been prim, proper and pale, but you looked so fetching back there with your eyes fiery and your cheeks red, about to begin screaming at Mr Walters."

"Oh!" I said, losing my elegance momentarily in a frightful blush and a wicked little giggle.

"Why the laugh, madam?" he asked, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye.

"You are a dreadful tease, sir," I replied.

"Well, I meant every word, Miss Bennet!" he said, pretending to be affronted.

I just laughed again and refused to believe him.

And then we came to Pemberley and I saw Mr Darcy and Elizabeth finally and thanked Lord Gosford with a pretty little curtsy and a mischievous smile. I caught sight of Lizzy rolling her eyes at Darcy with a smile at the sight of me, and felt ashamed, for I had vowed I would not embarrass them, and I had sworn I would stop being a flirtatious little peacock. (I had overheard Captain Harper calling me that and it had shocked me to the core. I never want to be called a peacock again.)

Then I went into Pemberley and was shown around and met Georgiana and I cannot write anymore because I am utterly wasted after my long day. Good night, diary.

I wonder if I will fall in love with Lord Gosford? He is no redcoat, to be sure, but he is very rich and very handsome.

Wednesday, April 1

It is strange seeing Darcy and Lizzy so evidently in love with one another. I suppose being in your natural habitat brings out the relaxation in a person, in this case, Mr Darcy. I knew that Darcy loves Lizzy amazingly, but I didn't know quite how much Lizzy returned the love. Why, I caught them _kissing_ this morning, full on the lips, and they were not embarrassed in the least – save that Darcy blushed a little when he realised I was standing in the doorway, gobsmacked, but he had such an uncontrollable grin on his face that the red on his cheeks was hardly noticeable.

Georgiana, Darcy's younger sister, is an obviously sweet girl, and only a year younger than I, at eighteen. But she is so deathly shy that I am not quite sure how I am going to get _any _response out of her in the near future. This was our conversation today over breakfast:

Georgiana: Good morning, Miss Bennet. (Well, at least she initiated it!)

Kitty: Good morning, Miss Darcy. How did you sleep?

Georgiana: Very well, thank you.

PAUSE

Kitty: I am very impressed with Pemberley. It is so beautiful!

Georgiana: Thank you. My brother works constantly to improve it.

Kitty: Yes, that is obvious.

PAUSE

Kitty: Did you enjoy the winter?

Georgiana: Very much.

PAUSE

Kitty: (trying to think of anything suitable to say) What is your favourite part of the grounds here?

Georgiana: The lake.

BIG PAUSE

Kitty: (grasping at threads) It is a very agreeable day.

Georgiana: Yes.

And that was the general idea of the conversation. I hope I can draw her out of her shell at some point, because I get the feeling from Lizzy that Georgiana was one of the reasons I was invited. She certainly needs to get used to the company of people her age.

After breakfast, I had a lovely long tête-à-tête with Lizzy. I love it when Lizzy treats me like a real grown-up sister, and talks to me like she would talk to Jane. She used to be scornful of me, I could tell, but now she seems so happy that she has forgotten all my silliness in the past. We talked about the coming baby (she is much more calm about it than _I_ would be), about the society in Derbyshire, about Lord Gosford (I was wondering who he was), and how perfect Mr Darcy is (well, she did), and about our parents. Then Georgiana came in, and Lizzy made her sit down with us and join in the conversation, and she actually contributed a few titbits voluntarily! It was an accomplishment indeed. I could tell Elizabeth was very pleased.

And you will never guess what my sister told me later! They are holding a dinner party for me tomorrow night, and inviting all their friends in the district! Lord Gosford is coming, among quite a few others, and some are YOUNG MEN. My heart is fluttering wildly already. I know I swore not to be so flirtatious and silly – that is my behaviour; I'm still allowed to be excited in my head, am I not? Lizzy said there will be dancing! But no redcoats. Even so, diary, I cannot wait for tomorrow night!


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Friday, April 3

Yesterday was the dinner party, and it was a raging success! I enjoyed every minute of it. It is so agreeable to meet new people, the majority of whom are amiable and amusing and eager to get to know you!

These are the people who came – (I am doing this in an organised way so as to organise my thoughts) –

_Lord Frederick Gosford_: I don't think I described him before so I will do so now. He is very tall, and dark, and handsome in a rather savage, exciting sort of way. He is a heroic rogue; his image is perfectly conducive in my mind with that of a gentleman highwayman.

_Miss Alice Brandon:_ A very sweet girl whom I hope will be my friend. She is already a great friend of Georgiana's, through their music, and it is very encouraging to see that Georgiana actually does have friends. She has the fairest blonde hair ever seen and demure little fawn-like eyes – but when she grins, she is as cheeky a creature as you ever saw!

_Mr and Mrs Felix Brandon: _Alice's parents, obviously. Very congenial, unselfish people. You warm to them as soon as you see them. They are rather plump.

_Sir Thomas Humphries: _A man who is frighteningly young looking. Elizabeth asked me how old I thought him to be, I said thirty, possibly, but no, he is five-and-forty! He is dreadfully flirtatious and said to be looking for a wife. He amused me dreadfully and was always cracking funny little jokes. He looks like an eagle.

_Lady Posy Canon:_ I am not quite sure what to make of this one. She is a couple of years older than me and is the most bewitching woman I have ever met. I was mesmerised by everything she said, but she has _such _a dangerous sparkle in her eye and talks about such strange things and seems very independent and wicked. Not that being independent is necessarily a bad thing, but I just wonder – is she quite proper? I have an idea Lizzy doesn't like her very much at all. She seems rather … oh, I don't know. It is unfair to judge, anyways, on such a short acquaintance.

I know Lizzy and Mr Darcy don't really approve of her, but tolerate her presence as one of the so-called élite of Derbyshire. They are very good and discerning people, and sometimes I think their judgement of others is worth taking notice of. Especially Mr Darcy's. Lizzy was the one blinded by prejudice a year or so ago, after all!

_Mrs Juliana Mansfield: _Lady Posy's aunt and guardian. Very drowsy and boring. Doesn't seem to care a fig what is going on, as long as her chair is comfortable.

_Miss Louisa Tait: _Lady Posy's cousin who is staying with her and Mrs Mansfield for a while. She is very much like Lizzy, but less mature, and I warmed to her immediately. She shot me friendly smiles all evening, and when I finally managed to talk to her we had such a good time. I am quite determined I will be friends with her; I'm sure she is a very good influence for a once-was-peacock.

_Mr Charles Winter: _Does Mr Bingley have a long-lost twin? That is all I can say of Mr Winter. He even _looks_ like him, and has the same Christian name. It's actually frightening, perceiving the similarities in manner, character and appearance. He was very agreeable all evening and brought me about five glasses of punch – however, he did that to everyone, so one cannot hold it out as a potential compliment.

_Mr Julian Montgomery:_ A blonde, cherubic looking boy who is actually a man but doesn't look much older than I. In a way, languid and vapid looking, but, I think, intelligent. I liked him. He is very lazy, like me.

_Mr Edward Beaupays: _A veritable fashion plate. I shouldn't expect he'd stay in the country for long. Still youngish for a Tulip of Fashion, about five-and-twenty, but well on the way to being the stereotypical lead dandy. Everything he says and does is of the latest fashion or will probably be the origin of one. However, he is friendly and agreeable, at least he was to me, and very easy to talk to. I shouldn't be sorry to see more of him.

And last of all, _Mr Henry Wakefield: _This is the man I shall find it most difficult to describe. He is the clergyman of the local church. He is nothing like Mr Collins – something that must be said right from the beginning. I think he is about six-and-twenty. He is one of the most handsome men I have ever seen, with the most velvety, clear brown eyes my insides have ever squirmed at the sight of. He is very serious but very laidback at the same time; he is very friendly and open but he equally holds himself apart; I find it very hard to understand him. Of course I liked him, everyone seems to, but he is so unworldly, in a way, so calm and unruffled and kind and … sincere. I do not know what to make of him.

The evening itself was absolutely delicious. Dinner was perfect. My dinner partner was Sir Thomas, and we were sitting opposite Lord Gosford and Georgiana (who looked terrified and spoke not a word the entire meal – I must say Lizzy showed a great lack of judgement in placing poor Georgiana by such a potentially terrifying man). After dinner we retired to the drawing room, and Georgiana escaped to the pianoforte and we danced! First of all I danced with Lord Gosford (he is shockingly straightforward), and then with Mr Beaupays (who does everything with consummate elegance and poise, including dancing), and then with Mr Winter (who one could describe more accurately as rollicking joyfully than dancing), and then with Sir Thomas (he is really very handsome for a man his age), and then with Mr Montgomery (who I must say is a very poor dancer – he makes no effort). And then with Mr Wakefield.

He was a sphinx in countenance, but for his eyes. They are wonderfully expressive and warm. And he was very kind, and conversed very sensibly and intelligently and warmly. "Miss Bennet," said he, "do you enjoy Derbyshire so far?" Such a simple question, but the way he spoke it seemed to give it new depth.

"Oh yes," I replied, "I am not sure how to explain it, but I feel as if I am coming home rather than visiting."

He smiled in _that_ way – he understood completely. There is no way I can describe it, but he seems to be very special, despite his choice of career. I can accept that I may be biased, however – it's only that the very thought of Mr Collins fills me with dread!

And then we stopped dancing after a while, and he withdrew and we talked no more that evening. I could feel eyes watching me all the rest of the time, and I wonder now – am I to be the object of their affections? The thought scares me a little. They really were watching me. And these are good men, diary; in Meryton the only men who would fall for me in the slightest were the men who were too roguish to fall for Jane or Lizzy or someone good like that. Am I suddenly to be the Belle, the Competition Prize? (Of Lambton only, you know, I mustn't make myself sound _too _important.) It makes me a little uncomfortable. Mr Wakefield wasn't watching me. I was grateful for that. Those eyes boring into me would have been too much to bear. But diary – this is going to sound awfully conceited, but I don't mean it to be; I just _felt _it – I could tell he was thinking about me. I could sense it.

Sunday, April 5

I went to church today with the Darcys, and sat in their family pew with them. All the men from the dinner party smiled at me. I smiled back warily because I still have not decided whether I am attracted to them or not. Mr Wakefield spoke on the text from the epistle to the Ephesians, chapter 2 verses 8 and 9:_ 'For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; _it is_ the gift of God; Not of works, lest any man should boast'._ I was riveted to everything he said. I cannot understand it. Every single verb or conjunction or preposition he said just came together and seemed to make sense when he said it, and I started to understand and I started to shiver – not that I have ever been exactly _virtuous_, but I had always assumed that if I just behaved _most_ of the time and grew up to be a good old woman, then everything would be fine and I would go to heaven and that's that. Mr Wakefield's text shook me up.

Afterwards all the men and my sweet new girlfriends came and spoke to me. Sir Thomas hurried up to me almost at once, and I blushed, because everyone in the church began looking at me and whispering. Of course I know that Sir Thomas is on the catch for a wife – it's most obvious to everyone – but I am much too young for him. Whatever happens between us will never be more than a friendly little flirtation. He grabbed my arm and walked me out of church, and all the other men scowled at him. I giggled because it was really rather funny, and he gave me this wicked grin. "How did you like the service, Miss Bennet?"

"I thought it was very good," I replied seriously. "Mr Wakefield is a very good speaker. I was transfixed by everything he said."

"I see," said Sir Thomas, frowning slightly. "Tell me, do you like Derbyshire?" I could tell he was trying to change the subject, and I don't know why, but I was spared from answering him, because at that point someone more important than myself came up to talk to him, and I ran off to see Louisa Tait and Alice Brandon with Georgiana. Lady Posy doesn't come to church. Louisa, Alice and I have already started calling each other by our Christian names. They are very very very sweet girls and I am so glad I met them. It would have been lonesome without anyone my age save Georgiana, who needs quite a bit of encouragement to even consider opening her mouth, and also, those girls are very good for Georgiana. She actually made SIX voluntary statements. I was amazed. And then Mr Winter skipped up. I get the feeling he has a _tendre_ for Alice, which is agreeable, because I had seriously debated falling in love with him, among the other four possible suitors at the dinner party. It is good that now there is less choice and less potential for indecision. Besides, Mama was quite determined that I should find a husband here, and I cannot deny that up to the present time, I am quite impressed with the selection of men. But I do see that Mr Winter and Alice would make an admirable match and that I, with Mr Winter, would never really be quite right. I cannot see poor Georgiana with any of the men here; she is quite terrified of Lord Gosford; she is much too young for Sir Thomas, not only in age but in character also, and besides, he is an eagle and she is a bunny rabbit; Mr Montgomery would never appreciate her, he is much too insipid; and Mr Beaupays needs a stunning society woman. Which Georgiana is not – stunning, yes, but the very thought of giving balls or dinner parties gives her nightmares. And Louisa … well, I suppose I can see her with Lord Gosford, but you know, I'm not sure I want to suppose that yet. I'm not sure if I want him for myself or not yet.

Anyhow, Mr Winter went walking off with Alice, and Louisa, Georgiana and I discussed the weather for about two seconds before up came Lord Gosford! I watched Louisa and the gentleman himself carefully and I cannot discern any peculiar amount of regard. So all is well in that quarter and I am free to be friends with Louisa again! Lord Gosford started talking to me alone for a time, while Louisa and Georgiana chatted. "Miss Bennet, I hope you are none the worse for wear after the dinner party?"

I laughed. "What a silly question! Of course I am not! Do I look that terrible?"

"Oh no," he said, smiling, "it was merely a polite, gallant thing to ask, you see. You should have replied, 'I am quite well, thank you sir, although a trifle tired,' or 'Thank Providence, I am free from any complaint!' Those would have been acceptable modes of reply."

"Except I replied by insulting you," I laughed.

"Yes," said he, "but I have a thick skin. Insult me all you want; I enjoy it."

And then Mr Beaupays came up and said to me, "I am sorry to interrupt, Miss Bennet, Lord Gosford, but I have been quite impatient to tell you ever since I noticed, Miss Bennet – your bonnet is quite ravishing."

"Why, thank you, sir," I said, curtseying, and smiling secretly.

Lord Gosford scowled at him. "Go find your own quarry, Beaupays," he said in jest. "I was here first."

Mr Beaupays, brows raised, smiled disdainfully back at him. "Don't be a bore, Frederick."

Lord Gosford grinned, and turned to me again. "Miss Bennet, before Edward jumps in again, will you do me the honour of allowing me to drive you back to Pemberley?"

"Oh," said I, surprised, "errr.. I shall go and ask Elizabeth."

He bowed, and I went off to find my sister. "Lizzy," I whispered to her, after successfully extracting her from a group of women, "Lord Gosford wants me to drive home with him. May I go with him?"

"It is entirely improper to allow him to drive you alone to Pemberley from church, Kitty," said Lizzy calmly. "People will talk about it till Christmas and beyond if such a thing occurs."

"Thank you," I whispered back, and hurried back to Lord Gosford. "Lizzy says it is entirely improper.

He smiled and said, "Well, it was always worth a try, was it not, Edward?"

Mr Beaupays rolled his eyes, supremely unconcerned, and wished me a good day. I smiled back warmly, because as you know, I don't want to restrict falling in love to only Lord Gosford as yet.

I realised soon that I didn't even have to get into Lord Gosford's phaeton to be gossiped about until Christmas. As Lord Gosford stayed by my side and we continued talking, all the middle-aged women stared and then started whispering furiously that _Miss Bennet_, that little girl who was related to Mrs Darcy, talking to Lord Gosford like that when she had only just arrived in Derbyshire! I tried not to blush. He, noting my red cheeks, said, "Yes, the women do tend to gossip about anything and everything in a district like this." I blushed still more, rather uncharacteristically, I suppose, but I giggled quietly also.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**  
  
"May I call you by your first name?" said Lord Gosford after a while.  
  
I looked at him, surprised. "I hardly think it proper, sir. I am trying most fervently to be proper and not an embarrassment to my sister, and I have only just met you."  
  
He sighed. "In other words, no. What a lot of breath you could have saved by being impolite and abrupt."  
  
I giggled. "Yes, that's true, and so here is my answer: no."  
  
"Well, I must acknowledge you are probably wise to reply in that fashion," he said, smiling at me. "There will be enough gossip at my _talking_ to you here, before I even _know_ you properly, without the addition of my calling you by your Christian name." As I looked worried, he continued. "Oh, don't worry your pretty head about it, gossip of this sort always happens whenever I am around, and depend upon it, they will gossip more of me than of you. Small-town England necessarily lives and breathes and survives on gossip."  
  
I laughed again. "I think that is taking it a little far, sir. The structure of the economy may have a small part to play in the existence of a town, and so might the beauties of the surrounding area, and the virtues of its water, and things like that."  
  
"Ah, but the economy relies upon women meeting in the general store to gossip! And the beauties of the surrounding only play a part in that lovers take walks through them and provoke gossip! And what was your other argument? Ah! – the water. Miss Bennet, the good water of a town will only bring people to it that others can gossip about! You see, Miss Bennet, _everything _relies on gossip."  
  
"You are ridiculous," I replied, my nose in the air. "I am persuaded you are just being contrary in order to argue, not because you believe it any sense at all."  
  
Now he laughed. "You may be right there, Miss Bennet, but at this particular moment I believe it with all my heart. Perhaps after an hour's reflection I will decide the continued existence of a small town relies upon the success of the farmers. And then I will discover that it relies upon the fashions of the time. It does not take much to change any man's beliefs, Miss Bennet, and I am no different to any man."  
  
"Now that I certainly cannot agree with," I said, smiling still, but serious. "Any man with strong beliefs does not just change them on an hour's reflection. If he sees they could be wrong, he will look into it for a very long period; he will reflect; he will study; he will ask the advice and opinions of those superior to him. Maybe once he has proved his previous beliefs wrong without a doubt, he will change them, but usually a man has confidence in any belief that is felt so strongly and he will not change at a moment's notice."  
  
"Upon my word, Miss Bennet," he said, "you are very thoughtful on this! Maybe you should become a clergyman."  
  
I smiled. "Well, Mr Wakefield is quite proof of my feelings. You listened to his sermon today; you must have seen his eloquence and his fervour and his conviction. Do you think he would just out of the blue change his beliefs if a friend told him an angel had truly come down from heaven to warn him that he was following the wrong path? No, of course not. He would look for proof and still would not doubt his own path. A rather unrealistic scenario, perhaps, but you must have seen him. He would not falter."  
  
Lord Gosford was frowning, and I was perplexed. Why did everyone frown whenever I talked of Mr Wakefield? Not everyone, of course, as of that time I had spoken of him only to this man and to Sir Thomas. "Miss Bennet," he said, "I wonder have you been on any expeditions around Derbyshire yet? No, of course you will not have had time to yet. Maybe we should organise a pleasure-bent party to show you some of the sights."  
  
Again, a changed subject! I did not understand it, and I still do not. But I let it go, and quietly replied, "No, I have not done any exploring. My brother-in-law talks of an expedition to a particular forest at some point – the name of it escapes me now, but Mr Darcy thinks it very beautiful, and Lizzy promises it is enchanted. I would be very eager to discover more of Derbyshire at any time."  
  
He was smiling again now; my brief sermon was forgotten. "I know a wonderful spot on Falconhurst Hill; a lake, and caves. It would be a most promising picnic spot. We must organise an outing. I daresay many would be pleased to come; I am sure even Julian Montgomery would bestir himself. There would be you, and Miss Darcy, Miss Brandon and Miss Tait. And I, of course, you could hardly not invite me when the idea was mine!"  
  
I smiled. "Oh, what a disappointment."  
  
"Yes," he said, "I am aware it is very difficult for you to suffer my company, but in this case, it would be only polite, I am afraid."  
  
"Then I suppose you may come."  
  
"And we must invite my great friend Archibald Walters," he said mischievously. "A more handsome, amusing man I do not know."  
  
"Now that is rude, sir."  
  
"I am sorry," he said, repenting slightly. And he listed the names of all the young or single people at the dinner party, except for Mr Wakefield, who I reminded him of. He had forgotten him by mistake. "And another group outing we could have would be riding, through Benson Woods. They are delightful, and we could pick wild blackberries and eat them. It would be wonderful."  
  
Lizzy came up to me at this point; we were off to Pemberley. Lord Gosford gallantly escorted me to our carriage. "I will have to start organising this outing," he said. "I declare I am looking forward to it already. I will call around to Pemberley another day to speak to you of it, and to Mrs Darcy, and we can arrange everything. It will be superb."  
  
I am still quite bemused how it is that men always change the subject when I talk about Mr Wakefield. I do not know why it is.  
  
Monday April 6  
  
Everything is organised for a picnic and outing. Lord Gosford came around today and persuaded Elizabeth to allow a picnic – she didn't take much persuading really, and she and Mr Darcy were invited too, as chaperons. She laughed and laughed at that – being very young herself, only just two-and- twenty. But she has decided she must not go, for the safety of her unborn baby, although she would most fervently love to go. And Mr Darcy will stay with her to comfort her feelings in being left behind. What a nice husband he must be to have. And so we are not going to have a chaperon, as we cannot think of anyone else who would be proper and who would want to. Alice's parents are of a comfortable frame of body and hate to climb hills, even little ones, and Lady Posy's guardian is much too lethargic to even think of. At least Sir Thomas is much older than the rest of us and can comfortably pass off as being our chaperon, if he is not too insulted by the idea. And so we are going on Thursday, and everyone we invited has agreed to come.  
  
I went for a walk with Mr Darcy before dinner and found him most agreeable and disposed to open himself up and talk to me. I had thought we would be walking in silence and awkwardness, but he was most kind and thoughtful, and even funny at times. And do you know what? I had a part in his proposal, in a way!  
  
"It was because you ran away to visit Maria Lucas that I had a chance to talk to Elizabeth," he said. "And I am eternally grateful for that!"  
  
I laughed and laughed. "I am pleased you find me so obliging."  
  
"Oh yes," he said, "it was the finest thing you had ever done, in my eyes."  
  
"I am offended," I smiled. "If that is the finest thing I have ever done – going to visit Maria Lucas – I am truly sunk."  
  
"Ah, but the finest thing you have ever done, in regards to helping me!" he said. "I did not mean to offend you."  
  
Poor man, he thought he actually had offended me. "Mr Darcy, don't trouble yourself!" I protested. "It was a joke! I am not offended in the least." I think he is going to need still more Elizabeth before he is quite adept in recognising humour, even the mild sort. But he is, without a doubt, much less stiff than he used to be, and all in all, I like him very much. I'm sure that if he was not already married to my sister, and obviously so happy with her, and if he was not much too mature for me, I would fall madly in love with him and forget about all the Lord Gosfords and Sir Thomases and Mr Montgomerys and Mr Beaupays on the planet for he is very handsome, and certainly truly amiable indeed. He is the epitome of anyone's dream of a handsome knight. In this case the knight is my brother, and I am very proud of him.  
  
In the evening, Mr Beaupays came by with a little bag Lizzy had dropped at church and forgotten. He is very attentive to details like that – it is actually quite amusing. He was extremely concerned that Lizzy had been without her accessory for a day, and then turned his attention to me. "Miss Bennet, I was most struck by your bonnet on Sunday, as I said before. I wonder, where did you purchase it?"  
  
"I purchased the frame in a shop in Meryton," I smiled, waiting to see his reaction, "and I fashioned the ribbons and decoration myself."  
  
He blinked. "Upon my word, I am astonished, Miss Bennet. You must have some skill in bonnet-making!"  
  
"Oh, no," I said, "I have just been accustomed to fashion my own bonnets with my sister Lydia for a long time."  
  
"That is quite amazing," he said, still unable to believe what he heard.  
  
"I think you take it a little far, Mr Beaupays," I giggled.  
  
"Well," he said, "Maybe I do, but I must confess I am amazed. You may have noticed."  
  
I laughed again. "Yes, I did notice."  
  
He got up. "I must leave now. My valet is awaiting me with a new suit, or so I hear. Oh, but Miss Bennet!" he said, clapping his hands together in a very fashionable way. "Will you consent to tell me what exact shade of blue is the ribbon on your bonnet over on that table?"  
  
"I would if I knew, sir," I replied, "but I don't know."  
  
"Oh, that is a pity," he replied smoothly. "Good day for now, in that case."  
  
"Good day, Mr Beaupays."  
  
Right now I am earnestly trying to decide which man I should choose. They all have good qualities. Mr Beaupays is very amusing and I don't doubt he would make a very useful husband. And I should like leading society and throwing dinner parties and balls frequently and so on. He has a defect though; he seems like he would never fall violently in love enough to stop talking about clothes.  
  
Mr Montgomery, as I have said before, is very lazy – a definite defect. But he has a good sense of humour, something which I find invaluable in a man, and his laziness could suit me. I hate running around _doing_ things energetically that I don't enjoy one bit. It seems to me to be such a waste of time, and so no doubt I would have a bond there with him. He is nice, too. So far, looking back on my journal, I have only mentioned his languor. But he is amiable, and he does think of others' feelings – whether he acts on them or not is another question.  
  
Sir Thomas is much too old, of course, but I really don't see that as an insuperable obstacle. He looks so young that it would not really matter, and there are benefits in marrying an older man. But he is wonderful to flirt with, and he is very kind. Rich, too. Richer than Mr Montgomery, will probably stay rich whereas Mr Beaupays may end up running away to the Continent chased by debts, like Mr Brummell did, and just as rich as Lord Gosford. Generous too, which could be a problem, but when we are married I will see to it that he does not give away too much. That is, _if _we are married. Sometimes I get caught up on an idea and run wild with it and forget that it's not even close to settled yet. But there is something very tempting about the thought of marrying Sir Thomas. I am sure I should enjoy it very much.  
  
And Lord Gosford is of course witty, handsome, rich, clever, amusing, and in his own way, kind. He doesn't stand nonsense. Which could be a good or a bad thing. Sometimes I am so nonsensical it makes me cringe. But marrying him would be good for me, in that case. The main problem I see with him is that he is the sort of man whom I could imagine getting bored. I don't know if I could trust him to stay true to me. That seems very old-fashioned nowadays; I know many society wives just turn a blind eye on their husbands' little strayings. But I could not; not if I was in love, and I don't understand why I could not. It always seemed to me that I was so much like Lydia, and Lydia would not care one little bit if Wickham strayed, as long as he came back home in the end. I must admit now then, that maybe I am not so much like Lydia as I thought. I have no desire to run away and elope, nor do I wish to marry a man who would be unfaithful to me. I am certain it would make me very unhappy.  
  
But now _I _am straying, only from the subject. Of course it is silly to brand Lord Gosford as such a man! For goodness' sake! I hardly know him yet! And although he does seem very wicked sometimes, he does have a goodness about him, in a way, I think.  
  
I wonder which one I will marry? For I am sure I will marry one of them. There is no doubt about that. I can see that they are all falling madly in love with me, especially, at this point, Sir Thomas. Mr Montgomery takes things so slowly that whatever happens in that quarter will be a long time coming. Lord Gosford likes me, I can tell, but he is careful too. And Mr Beaupays' heart is unlikely ever to be touched above the ordinary. 


	4. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**  
  
Thursday April 9  
  
I did not write for several days, because Tuesday and Wednesday have been spent madly rushing around Pemberley, Lambton and Derbyshire helping Lizzy. The silly woman has decided only now that it is time to _'get things ready' _for the baby. Ominous words. She is rather swollen around the middle and is unfortunately quite content to sit in an armchair looking like an apple, ordering me round. Of course she is very polite and grateful about it, but she is desperate to get things done. I can't _think _why she left it this late, or why Mr Darcy allowed her to, but now all the harrowing work has been left to me. Honestly, it is like Bedlam in here.  
  
First I had to call in the painters and carpenters and so on, and ask them for suggestions for the nursery, which has not been used in years. Then I had to communicate these suggestions to Elizabeth, who waved them away at once, suggesting her own ideas. Then her ideas were pooh-poohed by Mr Darcy, leading to a long and explosive argument, in which I tried to mediate. (Of course they enjoy arguing and would stop at once if either party's feelings were hurt. Which does not make my job easier, because neither's emotions were crushed in the course of the argument.) I mildly suggested a few things, and then the builders suggested a few more, and then finally something was settled on, and work began.  
  
Secondly, I took the carriage into Lambton and feverishly sorted through all the shops for materials, baby clothes, other necessities, buying everything I saw as I was not sure what Elizabeth would like. I placed an order at the carpenter's for wooden toys. I asked the dressmaker to come to Pemberley at some point in the afternoon.  
  
Thirdly, I had to talk to a lawyer about birth plans and wills and so on, because Mr Darcy was busy with his bailiff, and I even had to try and _remember _the information outside of the few brief titbits I managed to jot down. If you are in any way acquainted with me, you will know I have no taste – no taste WHATSOEVER – for the law, and it bores me to tears. This is all while Elizabeth pleaded off, saying she was _tired_, for heaven's sake, and sat down with a piece of embroidery and a cup of tea. Really, is it possible to be so foolish that you rely on Kitty Bennet, Peacock Extraordinaire, to handle your legal life?  
  
Then the dressmaker came and I had to sit with her and Elizabeth and organise what clothes should be made. This was much harder than it may seem, as every time a picture or example was brought out, Elizabeth threatened to make noises and exclaim over how small each little cardigan or suit was to the point where we would not have been finished until midnight. I therefore had to detract her attention to other things, and we finally finished about two and a half hours later, by which time my head was sick and exhausted from all that quick thinking.  
  
Right throughout this I was called on numerous occasions into the nursery to supervise procedures that I know nothing about and give advice without any idea of Elizabeth's feelings. It was enough to turn me into a nervous wreck. At least Georgiana helped me on this; she has enough artistic sense to fill a palace.  
  
Then on Wednesday there was still more work to be done. Lizzy was having small pains in her stomach, and although she was not disturbed greatly, Mr Darcy was, and he sent for the doctor from Lambton. I had to stay with Lizzy throughout this, running as fast as I could to fetch instruments and hot water and so on whenever the doctor asked me. Then Lizzy and Mr Darcy went into raptures when the doctor told them they're having twins, and they all waltzed off and I was left to clean up, feeling very ill-used – although, of course, it is exciting that they will have twins! Imagine, two little screaming, dirty infants who are both convinced they are desperate for food, cleaning, sleep, in fact anything – ALL the time!  
  
I then had to go into Lambton with messages, requests and orders that Elizabeth had forgotten before. Beef salami and nutmeg for Lizzy; (she was having cravings); to the carpenter's with an order for a cradle; more paint so the painters could finish the nursery; a second time to the carpenter's with an order for a bureau; to the upholsterer's with an old armchair Elizabeth thought would be lovely in the nursery; to the haberdashery store for fabric that would suit the armchair and the nursery; to the drapers for curtains – and more.  
  
And then I met one of those fusty women from church who proceeded to imply to me almost directly that I was setting my cap at Lord Gosford, _and_ at Mr Beaupays, _and_ at Sir Thomas, and then to assure me that Lord Gosford meant to marry in the nobility, and that Sir Thomas loved to flirt but seldom meant it seriously, and that Mr Beaupays was in love with her fourteen-year- old daughter Charlotte, (a very improbable scenario as Charlotte was not even out, nor had she ever talked to Mr Beaupays, who regarded her with civil disdain), and that Mr Montgomery was a lazy good-for-nothing. I endured it as best I could but was not able to extract myself politely – and the scandal there would have been had I been impolite! - until I saw Alice Brandon walking out of Hart's, the haberdashery store, and was able to lie that I had a message to give Miss Brandon from Mrs Darcy and must run after her. For goodness' sake, I had not even been introduced to the woman, I still don't know her name, and she takes it upon herself to act in the place of my sister! The self-importance of some people I will never understand.  
  
My meeting with Alice was one of the only good points of the day. We talked animatedly for a while, several whiles in fact, but then she saw Mr Winter going into the grocery store, and suddenly remembered she had an urgent errand from her mother to buy a cucumber. I saw her coming out several minutes later, arm in arm with Mr Winter, patently lacking a cucumber. But I am not at all offended, rather I am pleased that such a sweet, good girl can be wicked enough to do such a thing! I wonder if Georgiana would do anything of the kind ever. I seriously doubt it, but as you know, nothing is impossible. With faith one can move mountains.  
  
Wednesday evening I had to assist Lizzy again and sew and sew and sew and sew. I have never been a sewer, although I am such an accomplished hat- decorator, and it is the slowest work ever. I found myself drooping over like a wilted flower by the time we had finished, and I had to drag myself to bed.  
  
But today is the picnic! We are leaving in some forty minutes. I must own I am extremely excited.  
  
That evening  
  
I have just arrived back from the picnic on Falconhurst Hill, and have dived into the house, said good afternoon to my sister and her husband, and after the necessary commotion which I will explain later, have finally escaped, changed into warm clothes and picked up my pen to write down to you all of what has happened today. I think it is very good!!!!  
  
Well, everybody met at Lord Gosford's mansion, Gosford House – which is WONDERFULLY amazingly splendid, by the way – and I shared a carriage with Lady Posy Canon and with Mr Montgomery. Mr Montgomery was too lazy to talk and so I spent the trip getting to know Lady Posy more and she is perfectly enchanting! Still rather wicked, I must admit.  
  
"Oh, Miss Bennet," she sighed, with a wicked little glint in her eye. "I was disappointed to hear you were at church on Sunday."  
  
"Why ever so?" I asked blankly.  
  
"In my opinion, all the people who condone church are old fusties," she said. "I stay home in protest."  
  
"Well, that's rather silly!" I replied frankly. "All of the people going on this expedition today were at church on Sunday! I admit church has not always been one of the highlights of my life, but it is starting to grow on me, and I'm not ashamed to say so."  
  
She laughed. "Oh, don't worry, Kitty – I may call you that, mayn't I? – don't get offended, you must know I try to get a rude retort out of everyone!"  
  
"I wonder you should tell me so, if you wish to do so!"  
  
She laughed pleasantly. "Oh no," said she, "I feel we shall deal extremely well together – that's why I'm telling you pleasantly what other people only speculate about. Did you know I am the root of a lot of gossip?"  
  
"I had an idea," I said carefully.  
  
"Yes, most people do," she sighed. "It isn't like I start gossip purposefully. Ever since I arrived in this district and didn't come to church, everyone has thought me some diabolical force that _must_ be downtrodden."  
  
"Doing it a little too brown!" I said with asperity. "People may gossip about you, in fact, I'm sure they do, but I hardly think they see you as such a thing!"  
  
She smiled. "You see right through me, don't you? I'm sorry if that was a little die-away. However, I am trying to paint a picture of your character in my mind, and I find that this sort of probing creates a very clear painting. If I said, what sort of character are you, Miss Catherine Bennet, you would reply with what you _think_ you are. But this way I can see exactly what you are, without any bias on your side."  
  
"Hmm, very clever," I said, nibbling on a nut from a bag she had offered me. "Rather dishonest, I could say, but still, actually quite clever."  
  
"You are not at all impressed with me," she said. "You must remember I am several years your senior and know _much_ more than you!"  
  
"Oh, quite the contrary," I replied.  
  
"Do you mean to my first comment, or my second?"  
  
"Both, I should imagine. I am, of course, impressed with you. And I know much more than you in some matters. Like decorating bonnets, for instance."  
  
She laughed. "Oh well, how can I stand up to that? I recant all that I said, Kitty."  
  
She is altogether very agreeable, and although she is rather unorthodox, I like her. Reading over that last sentence, I find myself laughing at the absurdity of it – that I, Kitty Bennet, sister of Lydia Wickham, should say 'although she is rather unorthodox, I like her'. In the past that was not an 'although' but a 'because'. I must have grown up a significant amount since last year.  
  
However, I must carry on to the rest of the picnic (which was vastly agreeable!). We arrived at Falconhurst Hill about half an hour after leaving Gosford Hall and immediately started exploring the caves and promenading the lakeside and climbing over the hill. I went for a walk along the ridge of the hill with Louisa Tait, Sir Thomas and Mr Wakefield, and although it was quite cold and windy, I enjoyed every minute of it. Sir Thomas was excessively attentive, and Louisa in high spirits, and even though Mr Wakefield had a permanent small smile on his face at Sir Thomas making a cake of himself, I managed to have a very agreeable talk with him also. They are all excellent people – Louisa all that is friendly and amiable and vivacious, Sir Thomas gallant and witty, and Mr Wakefield so . . . unreadable? No, he is not, I could read that smile perfectly. No, he is all that is dignified and bending, he is all that is funny and serious, he is all that is curious and calm.  
  
I never know how to describe him. You will begin to think him a nonentity, an imaginary man. He isn't. He has quality. That is all I can say. He fascinates me, for the very reason that I cannot describe him. He seems separated from most people. Everyone likes him, he is sought after for every social event, but he is different to them.  
  
Anyhow, (tossing aside that pensive and thoughtful moment for the more mundane Facts of Life), then we all found our way back to the lakeside, sheltered at the mouth of the largest cave, and ate a picnic which had been prepared by the hands of Lord Gosford's excellent cook. Delicious!  
  
Then came the exciting part which I have been longing to come to for an age now. But my innate sense of good penmanship (ho ho!) has forbidden me to jump straight to the climax. And so here it is now!!!! Prepare yourself to be shocked and amazed.  
  
I was walking along the lakeside with Lady Posy when she dared me to walk across an old rickety bridge that stretched across the lake. It was a little rotten looking, and many boards had fallen through, but I, being a fool, gamely agreed to. I set off across the bridge at a steady pace, and was actually much more frightened on the bridge than on dry land, but I didn't want to look like a little frightened child, even if I felt like one, so I kept on going. I reached halfway, I turned around, and Lady Posy called "You're nearly there!" I cheered, the bridge broke, and I fell into the deepest part of the lake.  
  
Deepest water and deepest terror engulfed me. My whole life seemed to flash before my eyes, as I have heard people say before. I had never tried swimming in my life and found, to my horror, that I could manage nothing now, in my billowing dress and heavy boots. I found myself thinking, while I fought desperately to catch a few gasps of air as I bobbed up and down in the water, that I wasn't a very good Christian, and where would I go? Heaven, or the other place? Total despair. And then arms grabbed me and pulled me to the surface; he had dived in to rescue me, Lord Gosford was holding me up in the water saying my name over and over. I must confess I was quite in shock, and very limp and listless, and pints of water were streaming from me. He must have been quite worried. I woke up suddenly though, when I realised I was soaked, I had almost drowned, and I was in the arms of Lord Gosford. "Stupid girl!" he said mock-sternly. "Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?"  
  
"I don't know," I whispered. I felt very cold and white.  
  
He looked at me sympathetically. "You poor girl, you must get warm as soon as possible." I realised he was swimming back to shore with me, where all the others were waiting, gasping and shrieking. But all I could think about was that Lord Gosford's arms were around me, and I blushed when I realised the effect water would have had on my white dress.  
  
I found eventually that Alice Brandon had fainted, and that Georgiana was in tears. Everyone was white and shaking; imagine if Lord Gosford had not saved me! "How would we have ever told your sister?" asked Posy miserably. "And it was all my fault too! I am so sorry, Kitty!"  
  
I was now sitting at the mouth of a cave with Mr Wakefield's coat on (he had very generously and selflessly given it up to me) and a blanket around me, and Lord Gosford had taken off his wet coat and shirt and wrapped a blanket around himself also. "We must go home," he said. "I dread what Mrs Darcy will say! Miss Bennet, I will take you in my carriage."  
  
We were the only ones in his carriage, as it would have been very uncomfortable to try and fit others in while we two were swarmed in blankets. "You should probably try to sleep, Miss Bennet," he said. He seemed so concerned and affectionate!  
  
But I insisted that I wanted to stay awake, and though my eyes closed several times in reflection, I maintained this determination. Finally, I burst out, "Oh, Lord Gosford, thank you for saving me! I was utterly terrified until you came!"  
  
He smiled at me, took my hand, and kissed it, and I felt such a shiver running through me that I found it hard not to jump in shock. He continued to show me unexampled kindness, sweetness and affection, and by the time I left that carriage – I will say no more at present.  
  
Lizzy and Mr Darcy are shocked, of course, and very concerned about me, but finally I managed to convince them that I am fine. So Lizzy took my up to bedroom, helped me change into my thickest flannel nightgown, put a hot brick in my bed, and brought me chicken soup, and now I am drinking the soup in bed, feeling deliciously appreciated, warm, and safe while I write.  
  
Diary – there is no more confusion for me now. Lord Gosford it has to be. There can be no other alternative. He is a hero. I think I must be in love, for whenever I think of him, my heart flutters and I feel very weak and need to eat more soup.  
  
I do hope he will come and visit me soon! He said he would call in tomorrow to see how I do. Tomorrow cannot come too quickly. 


	5. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE  
**  
Friday April 10  
  
I had a horrible dream last night. I was sinking, sinking, sinking, and something was pulling me down. It felt like I had lead weights on my feet. Everything was black, and all I could think of was Mama saying, "Oh, Kitty, you must go and meet the officers!" for some unknown reason. And everything was a mess. It was horrible and I woke up trembling. But now I am fine. Because . . .  
  
He called! I am in raptures! He is the most handsome, wonderful, kind man that ever there was. He brought me the most beautiful flowers and said the most wonderful things. Lizzy knows how I feel; it is most obvious to everyone, especially to him, (he smiled and encouraged me!!!), and I feel like I am walking (or sitting on the sofa) on air.  
  
I am sitting on the sofa in the drawing room at the moment, all wrapped up in warm things, but I am perfectly fine and Lizzy says that by tomorrow I will probably be fit as a fiddle. The doctor came to see me and agreed with her, and then Lord Gosford called, and then my other would-be admirers and friends. I feel sorry for Sir Thomas, Mr Montgomery and Mr Beaupays in a way, but am so happy that I find it hard to dwell on such things. There is nothing like loving a man and knowing (because I do know, it is obvious) that he returns your affection.  
  
But as I was saying, tomorrow I will be quite well, and I plan to go and see Lady Posy, who nearly was the death of me, although I do not hold her to blame. She is a very sweet woman, even though she sometimes says things even I cannot approve of.  
  
Saturday April 11  
  
I didn't managed to see Lady Posy today, because Lord Gosford called! Lizzy invited him to stay for nuncheon, and then we strolled around the shrubbery together. It was heaven. This is what happened:  
  
"Miss Bennet, I hope you do not feel any bad effects from your misadventure at Falconhurst Hill?"  
  
"Oh no," I said.  
  
"Are you sure?" he pressed, all anxiety. "When I think that it was I who suggested the scheme in the first place! How could I have forgiven myself if something worse had happened?"  
  
"I have a very slight cold, sir, but nothing that is enough to keep me in bed, as you see." I found it very hard to answer him, as all I wanted to do was stare at him and nod rapturously at everything he said.  
  
"Miss Bennet," he seized my hand, "please tell me, is there any person in Hertfordshire you cherish a _tendre_ for?"  
  
This, as you may imagine, left me quite breathless for a moment or so. I managed to recover myself tolerably well, however. "No, not at all."  
  
He smiled that wicked smile of his. "Good, good."  
  
"Why, sir?" I asked, smiling mischievously but trying to sound as if I didn't care at all.  
  
He reached over and tapped the side of my nose. "You might find out one day."  
  
I don't really like people tapping my nose like that in general, but as it was him, I made an exception to my rule and grinned back.  
  
Now, if that isn't clear, diary, what is? He. Loves. Me. I am sure of it. Everything he says and does points to it.  
  
Sunday April 12  
  
At church today Mr Wakefield spoke on this text, and I am going to write it all out because I thought it beautiful : _'The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and plenteous in mercy. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy to those that fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.' _That is part of the 103rd Psalm. Once again, he is unparalleled as a speaker – in my experience, anyway. He means every word he says, and although this is very embarrassing to admit, I was almost moved to tears at one point – I, Kitty Bennet! I think I will start reading my Bible more. I found that psalm to be very beautiful and I think it must be true, if it is in the Bible.  
  
After the service, Lord Gosford came straight up to me, and we talked for a long time. He did not talk long to me today, he merely whispered, "I will not talk to you for long; last Sunday, the gossips had a field day."  
  
I scowled, trying to look pretty at the same time. "Must we care for their opinion?"  
  
"I suppose not," he said, "but after my commanding your time last Sunday, then my happening to save you from drowning, (which, by the by, has spread all over the village), half the village has had me married off to you in a sennight. Yes, you are wondering why that is a bad thing, as am I, but really, I like to be unpredictable sometimes."  
  
I blushed and smiled and argued no more. I wonder when will he propose?  
  
Monday April 13  
  
Diary, I have been in tears all evening. My heart aches like it has never ached before – as far as I can remember. You will not believe what a low- down, wicked, cruel scoundrel Lord Gosford is, and I hate him.  
  
Unfortunately I don't hate him; if I did I wouldn't be crying now, but after today, all love for him must fly. Am I trying to convince myself that I hate him rather than the opposite?  
  
Lizzy has been sitting in my bedchamber with me these last few hours, stroking my hair and being extremely nice to me, and she is the best of sisters, but now she has left and I can have some time alone with you, which is a relief.  
  
I went around to visit Lady Posy today, which I had planned to do on Friday but had not had time as Lord Gosford had come visiting. Her house is very nice - not large for a person of her importance, (she is the daughter of an earl) but very handsome and lavish. I knocked on the door and the butler answered; he told me Lady Posy was in the music room; he opened the doors. There was Lady Posy with Lord Gosford, they were kissing on the sofa, and Lord Gosford had no coat on.  
  
I cannot explain what a shock I had. The butler stood there for a moment with his mouth wide open and then hurried off, and I stood there in the doorway, stiff and unable to move, waiting for them to notice I was there. Finally they saw me, and both faces went beetroot red and as Lord Gosford jumped up and started saying, "Kitty!" But I shook my head and ran from the room out to the carriage, and he ran after me, pulling on his coat, and he grabbed my hands and wouldn't let me go.  
  
"Kitty, it was nothing! I promise you it will never happen again!"  
  
"Leave me alone, sir," I spat.  
  
"Look, you have to accept that even married men do these sort of things! Do you really imagine that men don't get bored?"  
  
"Your argument is ridiculous and I beg you will let me go!"  
  
"Kitty, you must listen to me! I think I am in love with you!"  
  
I stared at him in disbelief. "I scorn your love! You just betrayed me! How can you even pretend you are in love with me?" The tears were beginning to fall now.  
  
"It is true," he said. "Please, Kitty, let me come back to Pemberley with you. I will explain everything."  
  
"There is no explaining to do," I said haughtily, hastily wiping aside a tear. "I wish you will never come round to Pemberley again. I never want to see you again. You are a dolt. I am too good for you, lord or not. You must have rats in your garret if you can possibly think that I would even consider marrying you now." I pulled myself away from him, and climbed into the carriage and the servant drove off quickly. I did not look at him, but out of the corner of my eye I could see him standing still in front of the house and then slowly going back in as I rounded the corner.  
  
I burst into tears as soon as the house was out of sight, and when we arrived back at Pemberley I rushed to Lizzy and fell into her arms in floods of tears.  
  
The most frustrating thing about the whole episode is that I am now beginning to think of all these clever and stinging things I could have said to him, and now I know that I really should have slapped him hard around the face and hopefully broken his nose.  
  
I had a little obsession with him for but a few days. I don't think I could have been in love with him, for although the shock made me reel and cry at first, now I am relatively calm – I just know what I want more. I do hope I never have to look at him again, but if I do, I will manage it with equanimity and I will conquer the urge to run at him, push him into a well, lock him up inside and never let him out. He is not worth my contempt.  
  
Oh, diary, I may not have been in love with him, but still the tears seem to come. It must be the shock. After I had convinced myself so perfectly that he was wonderful in every particular and that he was going to propose to me, too!  
  
There is nothing to do but fall in love with another man now. And I have thought about it this whole afternoon and I believe it must be Sir Thomas. He would never be unfaithful to me. I will try and see if I can organise a meeting with him at some point tomorrow. It would be improper to visit him at his home, by myself, but maybe I can go into the village or something.  
  
We'll just have to see what happens.  
  
Wednesday April 15  
  
I came across one Sir Thomas James Humphries in the woods today! I was taking a walk with one of the dogs who happens to have fallen in love with me. The first meeting was very unromantic, unhappily. Our eyes met across the clearing; he took a step towards me and I to him. Unfortunately, at this moment Fella, the dog, noticed his presence and took instant exception to someone who was obviously trying to approach his mistress. He barked and barked and growled and growled and bristled and bristled until I yelled to Sir Thomas, "I am so sorry, sir! Perhaps you should leave!"  
  
"May I come and visit you at Pemberley soon?" he shouted, smiling.  
  
"I would be very happy for you to!" I shrieked back above Fella's cacophony.  
  
I was so happy that he was going to come visit me that when he was gone, I only gave Fella a half-hearted smack on the nose, and he thought I was patting him, and wagged his tail vigorously and issued a few warning barks in the direction Sir Thomas had backed. "Rascal!" I said affectionately, and we ran back to Pemberley.  
  
When I arrived there, Mr Wakefield was there to visit, to ask after me, and to talk to Mr Darcy about a certain tenant. I was quite touched that he had done so, for he is a busy man. He is forever going around people's houses and helping them and performing funerals and important things like that. I had a long conversation with him about forgiveness.  
  
"What do you think about people who formerly were the silliest girls in England and still are very silly?" I asked, concerned.  
  
"Look," he said, smiling at me with a twinkle in his eye, "God forgives anyone anything. I should think that being silly is the least of sins. If you don't have fun you don't have joy, I say. If you are always excessively mature and proper, what is the point in being alive? Whenever I meet with my brother Charles, we have the silliest and best time in the world. Yes, I leave behind any seriousness when I see Charles. It is always a blessing to me, and whenever I feel at all sad or stretched or tired, I think of my enjoyable times with him and I feel much better immediately. It is amazing."  
  
"Really?" I asked, smiling. "That is a very good philosophy. At least, I hope it is sound, because it seems very tempting."  
  
"Of course, there are times for seriousness," he smiled. "Unfortunately. Silliness must be tempered with sound mind, or silliness can become an evil."  
  
"I suppose that is true," I nodded, pondering. "Yes, it is true. If you are always silly and have great times without restraint or serious thought wherever you go, you will not know how to act when the bad times come."  
  
He leaned forward, a surprised look on his face. "That is very profound, Miss Bennet. I could not have said it better. To be sure, how can you comfort people who are mourning while you are bouncing off the walls grinning with la joie de vivre?"  
  
I laughed out loud. "Bouncing off the walls?"  
  
"Maybe a little of an exaggeration," he smiled, "but you see what I mean."  
  
We talked about lots more things, not all of a serious stamp like that – we talked about family and friends, (he was brought up in Yorkshire and his parents and sister Anne still live there, although Anne is engaged and will be married in July, but his brother Charles lives in London and his sister Juliana is married to a naval officer and is in Portugal at present), and we talked about fashion, (can you believe I discussed clothes with a _clergyman_?), and we talked about horses, (which he has a passion for), and many more things.  
  
And then Sir Thomas walked in, and I, of course, was very excited, and Mr Wakefield looked a little uncomfortable and said his goodbyes, walking out to Mr Darcy's study. Thinking it over now, I suppose he realised that as a clergyman it may not be quite proper to be sitting in a room along with a young woman (Lizzy had left momentarily to get a certain colour thread from her embroidery box) and having an animated conversation with her. I wish there were not silly little society rules like that. It was the most innocent thing in the world – why, indeed, should it be a worry that a _clergyman_ was alone with me? Can you imagine him trying to seduce me or take advantage of me?! It would be the most ridiculous thing in the world! Why, I am certain he has never thought of me in that way at all! And I am glad, for I am sure I would not like _anyone_ to try to make violent love to me, or impose on me, or anything of the sort! He is the most proper clergyman in the world – even more so than Mr Collins, and lots more fun. He _never_ flirts or chases or anything like that, but he is excessively kind and good-natured to me, even though I am an almost-reformed peacock. He even let me wear his coat when I fell into the lake, which I think was very very good of him, and he was obliged to be cold in the wind for some time.  
  
But anyway, after he left, Sir Thomas sat down with me, and he was ever so agreeable and amusing. I am glad I chose him! I think he will be a very suitable husband. He told me about his other estates, which indicated that he trusts me and feels intimate with me, and he has several. His estate here is called Hawthorne Lodge.  
  
"My estate here is not my largest," he said, "but it is my favourite because the house is very pretty and comfortable and I love the countryside, especially that surrounding Pemberley. You are very lucky to be staying here, Miss Bennet. I also spent holidays here, at Hawthorne Lodge, as a child, and loved every minute, so you could say that whenever I think of Hawthorne, pleasant connotations come to mind."  
  
I smiled. He speaks so well, and so affectionately of his house that it is very pleasing. "What are your other estates or houses like, sir?" I asked. "Where are they?"  
  
"Well, I have a house in London," he said, (here I mentally congratulated myself on choosing him – a grand house in London to go to in the Season is one of my ideas of heaven!), "on Grosvenor Square. I don't go every Season, and only go there briefly for business, so it is probably a waste of money, but I do like my house there and don't want to give it up –"he hesitated, "and I always thought that if I got married, "he looked at me with a little blush, "my wife would like to have a house there. Do you think she would?"  
  
"I think she would adore it," I said firmly, trying not to blush.  
  
"Good, good," he beamed – and to my horror, for a moment he reminded me of Sir William Lucas, walking around Lucas Lodge with that smirk on his face saying 'Good, good, capital, capital,' but fortunately the vision faded and he looked quite normal and handsome – certainly nothing like a red-faced squire. "I also have an estate in Cornwall that I do not visit very often; I am actually thinking of renting it out. It is not very handsome, although the grounds are good, but I am quite happy leaving the grounds to the management of my bailiff there. Yes, by Jove, I do think I will rent it out! There seems no point in keeping the house unoccupied. I will talk to my lawyer about advertising it as soon as I go home today." He beamed at me. "Thank you for the idea, Miss Bennet!"  
  
"Me?" I asked, surprised and amused. "I didn't say anything about it!"  
  
"It was your presence," he said. "It inspires me."  
  
I laughed again. "Very well, sir, if you must think so. Do you have any more land?"  
  
"Yes," he said, "I grew up on my estate in Herefordshire, which is very large and grand, and I have an estate in Wales, but I have been thinking about changing the ownership of that to my cousin for some time now. You see, I was the heir to my uncle on my mother's side, because his son married without the father's approval, and he cut off his son and changed his will to favour me – thus I gained the Wales estate. My uncle was not a very . . . amiable man, although I hesitate to speak ill of the dead, and I have often felt uncomfortable that I took the inheritance that should have been my cousin John's, when I was already perfectly well-off, while he has to scrounge and save every penny now. Yes, I think I should do so. It would make me feel terrible forever to hurt John and his wife, who I like very much, and even though in a worldly sense I should keep the estate for the benefit of any children I may have in the future," here he looked furtively at me again, (!), "I would not feel comfortable keeping it." He was studying my face closely to see my reaction. "What do you think?"  
  
"I think it would be a very generous thing to do," I said truthfully, "but as you said, this may injure the prospects of your future heirs. It is a difficult decision, but then, you already have several estates, and it is not certain that you will have children, is it?" I do not particularly want screaming children running around the place, and so I suppose I would bear one son to please Sir Thomas and to provide him with an heir, but I draw the line at more.  
  
"Oh, no, of course it is not certain," he agreed, "but I do think I may get married very soon. Which would present a new perspective to the question, would it not?" He looked at me slyly.  
  
"I suppose so," I said, for it was all I could think of; my heart was beating wildly.  
  
Elizabeth then came back into the room, and was surprised to see Sir Thomas there. "Good afternoon, Sir Thomas!" she said. "How do you do?"  
  
He stood up, smiling, and kissed her hand. "Very well, ma'am. I trust you are well?"  
  
"As always," she smiled back.  
  
He is so very polite and genteel! I am very proud of him. He will be a wonderful husband to have. 


	6. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**  
  
Friday April 17  
  
I met Mr Montgomery today in Lambton today, and I did feel it in my heart to be sorry for him, because he obviously likes me, and if I hadn't chosen Sir Thomas, who knows who I would be marrying soon? But I quietly and kindly repelled him whenever he tried to flirt, and the poor man looked quite unhappy. Of course I was civil, and I do like him as a friend, so I enjoyed meeting him, but otherwise I was thinking of Sir Thomas the entire time, and when I finally saw him coming out of Hart's, I excused myself quickly and hurried over to speak to him. He was in a hurry to go to a meeting with his lawyer about changing the Wales estate over to his cousin, but he spared a few minutes to talk to me, and he kissed my hand most graciously when he left. Of course it was a disappointment that we had not time for anything above the merest commonplaces, but still, seeing him at all is a joy to me.  
  
I met up with Louisa straight after, and invited her over to Pemberley. Georgiana had gone over to Alice Brandon's home for the afternoon and so I would be alone and probably bored, as Elizabeth wasn't feeling quite the thing and was resting today. She agreed to at once, and I realised she must dislike living with Lady Posy immensely, and would be very happy to go somewhere else for once. She said she is going home to Lyme soon, where she lives with her father, and that "she must confess she could hardly wait to leave Maples," (Lady Posy's home), and return to her beloved hometown. She misses the sea immensely, and she very kindly extracted a promise from me that if I was able, I should go and visit her in Lyme after I finished my time in Derbyshire. Unfortunately I believe I shall be married by then so I will not be able to, but I am sure I could persuade Sir Thomas to take me there – I have always LONGED to see the sea, and was immensely jealous of Lydia for another reason than the officers encamped there when she went to Brighton. Now, I am glad I did not go, because the likelihood would have been that I copied Lydia and ran off with an officer, and how can that ever compare to marrying Sir Thomas Humphries? He is much richer and probably much more agreeable than someone like Wickham will ever be to Lydia!  
  
Louisa and I had a famous time all afternoon. We explored the grounds together, which I have not been able to do so much of, and discovered so many pretty places that I thought I should weep that Pemberley didn't and never will belong to me! I found that she too loves dramatic plays, especially by Shakespeare, and we have decided to form a dramatic club. Just the two of us, for it would be grossly improper to include young men in the club, and we don't want Lady Posy, and Georgiana and Alice are much too shy for such a thing. We found a wonderful grove in the forest – a sheltered clearing, with a big tree that has branches so low and broad that we can use them as a stage! There is also a stream nearby, which _always_ appears in a drama, and we even found a rowboat some way down the river which we borrowed and dragged up the stream closer to our grove. We have great plans for the grove, and are going to see if we can even bring some garden furniture, or build a little hut!  
  
Of course it has to be perfectly secret, for if anyone found out what we were doing, I am certain they would turn it at once into a big joke, and I am _desperate_ to do this soon, for I am sure that a married woman cannot do things like this without consulting her husband, and as nice as Sir Thomas is, I'm sure he would laugh and laugh.  
  
We have started with Romeo and Juliet, as Louisa knows it nearly by heart and as I love that particular drama above all others. We think we will also do The Lady of Shallot, although it is not Shakespeare, because of the handy stream. Louisa said I may be the one who floats down pretending to be dead and holding the flowers, which is very kind and obliging of her. It is so wonderful to finally find a friend who wants to do things like this too! Those who know me would never guess how I love dramatic and mournful plays, and how many times I imagine myself as the heroine. It is like I am one Kitty when I read or watch these plays, and then another Kitty when I am an ordinary, flirtatious peacock. When I am a peacock, I am anything but romantic and mysterious, but when I am one of those heroines, I am so miserably romantic that you might scream in disgust at the soppiness.  
  
We thought we should probably return to the house when it started clouding over, and we ran the whole way back, chattering excitedly, because it is very agreeable to find a kindred spirit. Louisa and I are quite different when we are our ordinary selves – I am a peacock and she is an albatross. That sounds absolutely ridiculous. I mean that she is at least dignified although very fun, while I am silly and laughable. Although, as Mr Wakefield said, silly is good, while I can be serious.  
  
I have thought over his words very much, and I am greatly indebted to him for he has relieved my mind a lot. God seems very frightening when you don't know him, but I think I do know him a little better now, and my evening prayers seem to make more sense now, and if I read my Bible, always less often than I should, it does seem to lodge in my mind in a way it never did before. I can even quote verses now that I have learnt without being forced! Mr Wakefield actually is on my mind quite often, because he is such a perfect example to me of how I would like to be. I am sure he has faults, but I have a feeling I would like those faults.  
  
Lizzy invited Louisa to stay for the evening meal, for she is feeling much better. So Louisa was very happy to, and we had a very agreeable evening, for Georgiana came back from Alice's, and we all played cards together, even Mr Darcy! And soon enough, I suggested Snap, (my favourite card game ever!), and it turned into such fun, and it was almost a riot in the drawing room that evening! I won, as usual. Even if I am not the most accomplished person in the universe, I must say I am very good at Snap. We were playing for colossal, though imaginary scores, and I am now in possession of two hundred thousand imaginary pounds. Mr Darcy was very competitive, and actually looked like he was going to sulk for a moment or two when I won, but he restrained himself and contented himself with making a face at me when no one was looking. I burst out laughing. He is really very funny.  
  
Sunday April 19  
  
In church today, Mr Wakefield spoke on Jonah. He said that we can do the silliest things imaginable sometimes, (with a quick smile at me), because we are scared of doing what God has told us to do, but God will keep on telling us to do it, and if we just give up our fear and turn around and do it, everything will work out for the best. It was very interesting. I had never realised how funny the story of Jonah was. It almost says, "God told Jonah to go and preach to the Ninevites. So Jonah ran in the opposite direction." The whole church was laughing at some points. Mr Wakefield has a great skill.  
  
Unfortunately I had to see Lord Gosford today. He ignored me and looked pointedly in the other direction all service. I think he was embarrassed to be dropped by me. But when I was walking out of church on Sir Thomas' arm, we walked straight into him, and he bade me a stiff, "Good morning, Miss Bennet," and I smiled back, "Good morning, Lord Gosford!" Well, yes, I was a little uncomfortable, and it probably showed, but I was determined to show him I didn't care a jot about what had happened, well, that I did care, but I didn't care enough to go into spasms of depression or something. Sir Thomas noticed something though, and he asked me, "What is wrong with Lord Gosford?"  
  
I coloured up, and said something like, "I don't know! Hahaha!" I will need to be doing some thinking, for I'm sure many people will be asking that same question, and only I, Lizzy, Lady Posy and Lord Gosford himself know the answer.  
  
Sir Thomas looked at me gravely. I think he saw right through me. "Really?"  
  
I changed the subject, because I don't want to lie to him, but I'm sure it will come up again. He allowed me to distract him, but I know he didn't forget it.  
  
Monday April 20  
  
Louisa came over to Pemberley today to visit, and we managed to escape after luncheon to our grove. She dragged along a big sack the whole way and would not reveal what was in it until we arrived there. It was wonderful! She had asked Lady Posy's groom to teach her how to carve letters in wood, and she made a sign saying _'Kitty and Louisa's Grove – Keep Out!' _She had also brought a hammer and nails to stick this sign up, old carriage-roof material to drape over our stage and use as a roof, and she had commissioned the groom to make several small seats that sit on the branches perfectly! I had never imagined the like! She is certainly a very resourceful girl. She also brought a wooden box with boiled sweets in it that locks with a padlock and chain, and sits in a small hollow cavity in the tree. She gave me a tiny key to hang around my neck for it. I am sure I was never so excited. Louisa is so imaginative.  
  
Being so excited by this time, we plunged straight into the acting. We decided to do Lady of Shallot at once, as I was wearing just the right type of dress, and we picked some bluebells from an obliging collection nearby and hastened down to the stream. I carefully got into the boat, and lay down, and Louisa thoughtfully put her pelisse under my head so I would not be too uncomfortable. Then I clutched the flowers in my hand and shut my eyes, and it was all very dramatic and satisfying, and Louisa pushed me off the bank. Unfortunately the water was too shallow for the boat to move at all at this point in the stream, so Louisa was obliged to pull me down the stream a little until the water was a little deeper and I was drifting off, but I did not quite like having my eyes shut, for fear and for boredom, so after a while I sat up and waved at Louisa who was walking along by the boat. It was very merry, if not very romantic at all, and we talked to each other while I drifted along. She threw me a piece of cake she had brought along, and I ate that, and then to my horror the stream suddenly got wider, the banks got higher, and I had drifted into the lake!  
  
"Louisa," I called, "you haven't by any chance brought oars with you, have you?"  
  
"Oh no!" she cried. "Kitty, you must jump out!"  
  
"I can't!" I called back. "It's too deep! I'm scared!"  
  
"Of course you are, I'm sorry!" she said, remembering my near-drowning incident. "What shall we do?"  
  
"I don't know!" I was starting to panic now, and it was impossible to stop a few tears squeezing out. What was to become of me? Why did I forever do the silliest things possible? The more I drifted, the deeper it got, and the more impossible it was to jump out, in my mind. Of course it would only have been about waist height, but I have developed a deep fear of water ever since the Falconhurst Hill incident, probably due to still more nightmares. It seemed as impossible to me to jump into that water as to jump off a cliff. Meanwhile Louisa wrung her hands on the shore and called out meaningless and unhelpful advice to me. "Put your hands in the water and paddle!" she shouted. I tried, and moved even faster in the wrong direction. "Jump up and down!" she cried. "It might make the boat move against the current!" I tried and the boat rocked so hard it almost tipped over and kept moving with the current. At least she was trying.  
  
Suddenly a figure emerged from the woods, and on seeing our plight and asking Louisa what on earth was going on, he took off his coat, jumped into the lake and waded out to me. It was Mr Wakefield, of all people. I was deeply embarrassed. Of course a clergyman would disapprove greatly of playacting. I had reached the middle of the lake by the time he waded up to me. "Good afternoon," he smiled, holding onto the side of the boat. "It seems to me you are in trouble. Would you like some help?"  
  
I couldn't help smiling. "No, thank you, sir, I would like to live here forever."  
  
"In that case. . "he said, a twinkle in his eye.  
  
"Just a joke!" I assured him very quickly. I own I was not really worried about social appearance anymore and wanted nothing more than to get off that lake and back onto dry land.  
  
He saw the frightened glint in my eye and was at once very kind and gentle, squeezing my hand which was tightened on the side of the boat like iron. "Don't worry, Miss Bennet, I'll have you back to shore in no time. You will be fine. Just breathe deeply and think of hot chocolate in bed in the morning. I'm sure it will help."  
  
I closed my eyes and thought of it as he pushed me back to shore, and derived a most irrational comfort from the very thought of that hot mug of chocolate that Betty brought me every morning. But he was right, it did help, and by the time I had drunk it all, I was back at shore, and he was picking me up out of the boat and climbing up the bank to deposit me next to Louisa.  
  
"Oh, thank you so much, Mr Wakefield!" I could hear her saying as he set me down gently and as I tried to de-panic myself. "Look at you, you're all wet! Imagine what could have happened had you not gone out!"  
  
"It would probably not have been as desperate as the case at Falconhurst," he was replying, "but still, it must be very frightening for you to have been in another dangerous position, Miss Bennet. I am happy I came to be here."  
  
I nodded dumbly and murmured, "Thank you."  
  
"May I ask what on earth you were doing?" he said, curious.  
  
I went bright red and Louisa and I looked at each other, biting our lips. He looked to and fro at us, at the boat, at the stream, at the bluebells I was clutching tightly in my hand still – and he started laughing quietly. "You've been acting out the Lady of Shallot, have you not?"  
  
We stared at him. "How in all manner of wondrous things did you know?" I heard Louisa whisper.  
  
"My sisters used to do it all the time, and they would order Charles and I to help them in all manner of things; picking flowers, repairing boats, you name it. In fact they had a dramatic club, and Charles and I were included because they needed males for most plays – but _only_ because of that and not because they liked us, they always hastened to remind us. I was Romeo once when Juliana took a fancy into her head to play Juliet. It was such a laugh."  
  
Isn't he the nicest clergyman that ever there was? If Mr Collins had heard I was acting out the Lady of Shallot he would have read me the harshest lecture that ever was spoken and condemned me to hell like he did Lydia and advise my parents to have nothing to do with me.  
  
He left pretty soon after then, being rather wet from the waist down, although he was quite cheerful about it and said the sun would soon dry him off. I am so relieved he was there. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
**  
As soon as Mr Wakefield left, Louisa and I linked arms and walked back towards the grove. "I know you like Sir Thomas, Kitty," she whispered, "but have you realised Mr Wakefield likes you – very much indeed?"  
  
I burst out laughing. "Oh, Louisa, what a funny thing to say!"  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "Why? I think it's obvious! He is always looking at you and being especially caring about you and . . . lots more things!"  
  
"Of course he doesn't like me in the way you are suggesting! He hasn't once flirted with me or said anything to suggest anything of the kind. He's just a very nice man with no intention of the kind!" I laughed again. "What a ludicrous suggestion! I promise you he will never have thought twice about me!"  
  
"Kitty, do you really think Mr Wakefield is the type to flirt, or chase you?"  
  
"Well, I suppose not," I admitted, "but I am sure you are wrong! He is kind to everyone. How could such a thing be true? I beg you will stop talking about it before I split my side laughing!"  
  
"Very well," she said. "I must say you are a simpleton, though."  
  
I rolled my eyes, changed the subject and walked faster. Really, Louisa is admirable sometimes! The things she comes up with! I said before that she has an imagination and I am beginning to think it exceedingly overactive!  
  
Wednesday April 22  
  
Poor Lizzy is feeling very unwell today, and Mr Darcy, who was very worried, sent me into town to procure some restorative things for her, and to ask the doctor to come and visit. I am persuaded that it isn't a very threatening situation, but still it is worrying when a pregnant woman is sick; there is no telling what could happen. So unfortunately when I saw Sir Thomas in the village I was not able to speak to him for long; I had to buy the things, and then see the doctor, and I didn't want to waste time. Therefore I only managed a "how do you do?" and a quick explanation before I rushed off. The doctor took the restoratives with him, leaving me with time to talk to Sir Thomas, but by that time he had left the village. It puts such a damper on one's spirits when one misses out on things like that – especially when one is already worried about one's sister! But I met Louisa, and she has agreed to come and visit tomorrow. We are going to do Romeo and Juliet, and she said I can be Juliet, because she likes doing male voices! It will be such fun.  
  
And then I met Mr Beaupays, who I haven't seen for some time except for church, and he was very kind. He came over and complimented me on my pelisse, the silly man, and was most flirtatious. I should have been happy to oblige him had I not already been in love with Sir Thomas. But as the situation stood, I was very civil, and excessively nice, but not flirtatious. I know what is proper, and I have sworn not to ever come close to doing what that horrible Lord Gosford did.  
  
I saw Mr Wakefield too, and he paused to speak to me, but hurried off soon after. There was nothing in his manner that was flirtatious at all, and even though I looked closely, I could discern no signs of wanting to fix his interest with me. Louisa had obviously been mistaken. She must have thought his general kindness to me meant he was in love, but it is not so. He has never so much as cast a handsome compliment my way, nor has he looked at me above the ordinary. But then . . . that is not his style, is it? And I have detected a slight consciousness in his behaviour sometimes. I know he likes me, for he looks at me with _such_ a warm eye. But he cannot love me, can he? For he never singles me out obviously or flirts or anything of the kind, as I have explained before. And he did pick me up ever so gently when he saved me from the lake several days ago. It intrigues me, really, for so far in Derbyshire I have been accustomed to the single men flirting outrageously with me, with the exception of Mr Winter, who is already taken.  
  
Oh diary, now I remember that dinner party. I just flicked back to look at my entry that time, and I wrote that I could tell he was thinking about me. And it was true. He was. And he still does that. Like the time Sir Thomas came in and he decided to leave at once, almost embarrassed, as if he had been caught.  
  
I wonder, but it is all conjecture. However, I cannot deny he intrigues me immensely, although my immediate reaction is to scoff away any idea that he likes me above the ordinary.  
  
Anyhow, I am in love with Sir Thomas, am I not?  
  
Thursday April 23  
  
Oh, diary, something so exciting and wonderful happened today! Guess! Well, you'll never guess, so I'll tell you:  
  
Louisa and I went to our grove again and we continued on with Romeo and Juliet, and we got to my favourite part, Act II Scene II. I was Juliet and Louisa was everything else, in this case, Romeo, because she thinks it's amusing to do male voices. I stood up on our stage, and she sat below, and I cried out in great fervour my part.  
  
"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."  
  
Louisa said in an aside in her hilarious man-voice which almost caused me to succumb to laughter, "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"  
  
I continued. "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O! be some other name: What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself."  
  
To both mine and Louisa's intense surprise, a voice came from the forest! "I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; henceforth I never will be Romeo."  
  
We stared, our mouths wide open as Sir Thomas strode in, smiling. We were completely silent for what seemed like an age before he burst into laughter. "I'm sorry, Miss Bennet, Miss Tait, but I couldn't resist. Have you formed a dramatic club?"  
  
Louisa stared still, but I started to smile. "You wretch," I said. "How dare you invade our hallowed hall?"  
  
He grinned at me. "A dramatic club! By Jove, that's amusing!" He burst into laughter again, and I admit I probably would have been quite annoyed at the way he treated it as such a joke if he had not just pretended to be Romeo while I was Juliet!!!!  
  
We walked back to Pemberley all together, and he stayed for dinner, as did Louisa. I think she was a little annoyed at the way he teased us constantly on the walk back, and dropped subtle hints of it all evening, as we had made him promise not to reveal it to anyone, and she was very quiet all evening when in our company, but I am sure she is just tired.  
  
Saturday April 25  
  
Oh dear. I almost cannot make myself believe what happened today. I am very unhappy. I'm not sure what is wrong with me, really, but . . . you will see.  
  
I was going for a walk through the woods – this time not with Fella, and now I almost wish I had been – and I met Sir Thomas, and of course was very happy with this situation, and I knew that this would be a perfect time for him to propose and so was very excited. We started to walk along together.  
  
Well, he started to tease me almost straight away about the Romeo and Juliet incident, and this served to annoy me a little and regret that we were not already married so I could give him a good set-down. But with the delicate state of affairs, I felt it would not be wise to do so, in case he decided not to propose after all.  
  
Then he stopped suddenly when we reached the stream, and he turned to face me and took my hands, and my heart stopped and my brain started screaming, _'This is it, you idiot!' _at me, and I thought he was going to say something, and my mind screamed, _'Propose!' _but he just stared at me, and then. He positively attacked me with kisses.  
  
The strangest thing is that I was repulsed. All at once his age hit me, and I started to think, 'He is old enough to be my father!', and I felt no attraction to him whatsoever, and his kisses scared me, and I pushed him off me. He, unprepared for this, fell to the ground and jumped up again, a little red-faced and dishevelled. "Kindly keep your hands off me, sir!" I heard myself saying. Why, why, why, I don't know. As Kitty Bennet I must have accepted any kiss of any presentable man. I think I must be a Catherine now, even if I am still called Kitty. Because I hated every second that his lips were on mine, and as soon as I got back to Pemberley I scrubbed them furiously.  
  
But he stared at me, and he exclaimed, "What on earth?!"  
  
"I said," I repeated, "kindly keep your hands off me!"  
  
"Kitty," he said weakly, "what is the matter? I love you! I need a wife!"  
  
I stared at him. "I don't think you do love me," I said. "You said it yourself, you need a wife! I, for one, do not want to marry you."  
  
"Kitty," he said.  
  
But I interrupted him. "You should call me Miss Bennet, sir."  
  
"Miss Bennet," he said weakly, "you encouraged me to suppose that you desired my attentions!"  
  
"I admit at times I did," I said, reddening. "But sir, I don't want to marry you anymore."  
  
"I cannot believe it," he said firmly.  
  
"Try," I said.  
  
He lunged at me again, and kissed me, and this time I struggled immediately and pushed him away. I was red and angry and my bonnet had fallen off. "How dare you, sir?!" I cried. "If you touch me again, I'll –"  
  
He was looking shocked. "I'm sorry, Miss Bennet, I don't know what came over me... I suppose I'm just disappointed. – Oh, Miss Bennet, but think of the children!"  
  
"Children?" I asked, completely befuddled.  
  
"All the children we could have!"  
  
I nearly burst out laughing. "You think I want to have children?"  
  
"You don't want them?"  
  
"No!" Now I suddenly felt terrible. After all, I had encouraged his attentions and it was all my fault. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I cannot marry you." I ran away, and he stormed off, and the worst of it is that as I just ran behind a bush and out of Sir Thomas' sight, I ran straight into Mr Wakefield. We both went red and I froze.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss Bennet," he said. "I couldn't help but hear. I was just walking through the forest and happened to pass by here."  
  
The poor man was evidently very uncomfortable and ashamed of being the eavesdropper, even though he had obviously been an unwilling one.  
  
"It's . . . it's fine," I whispered. I couldn't look him in the eye without turning even redder. "I suppose that was very improper."  
  
He raised his eyebrows as I looked beseechingly up at him. "You did not seem at all improper to me," he said. "In fact, you behaved very well."  
  
I tried to smile, but found it was beyond me. "I hope so," I murmured.  
  
"Miss Bennet, there was nothing you could have done about it except what you did do, and you did well. I promise you."  
  
I looked up at him again, and he had the kindest expression on his face; his eyes are such a velvety, sincere brown. He is surely one of the nicest men I have ever met. "Thank you," I said. "That makes me feel a lot better." And it did.  
  
He smiled, touched his hat, and was gone. I ran back to Pemberley. He had helped me but he had not cured me completely, and I sat on my bed the whole evening sobbing at my own stupidity in imagining myself in love with one man when really I am in love with Mr Beaupays. How can I be so blind? I will hunt him out tomorrow at church. 


	8. Chapter Eight

**CHAPTER EIGHT  
**  
Sunday April 26  
  
I saw him today! I also saw a very embarrassed Sir Thomas who hardly looked at me and a haughty Lord Gosford, but Mr Beaupays was there and he walked me outside after the service and was very agreeable and kind and made me such a number of pretty compliments. I was walking on air!  
  
"Miss Bennet," he said, "you look remarkably well today!"  
  
"Thank you, sir," I said, smiling back. "You don't look particularly bad yourself."  
  
He only half-laughed, and I could tell was secretly a little concerned. "Not particularly bad? A compliment indeed! I am glad I took such care with my clothes in that case, if I earned such praise from your lips!"  
  
Sometimes the way he speaks and his expressions makes me want to double over with laughter. Very improper, probably, but I am afraid that is how things stand. I love every little bit about him – well, almost – but his whole life seems to be governed by clothes and appearance and such trifles. Trifles, indeed! The whole of high class society seems to be run by them, and at times, it worries me. Would he like me if I were not pretty? – and I know I am, unfortunately – yes, very vain, but could anyone be so foolish as to think themselves only mediocre if someone like Mr Beaupays is attracted to them? I have changed somewhat over the last year. Anyhow, it worries me. What if I were Mary in appearance and Kitty in heart? He would look at me and raise his eyebrows with a little conceited smirk, I am sure he would, and then he would pay no more attention to me ever again. When we are married I will have to make it my job to educate him in this matter.  
  
I managed to restrain myself this time from bursting into very improper tears of laughter, and made do with a small smile. "Oh, don't worry, sir, you know you make quite a picture."  
  
He smiled again, relieved. He drove me home in his phaeton (we had permission since we took Betty) although he is terribly bad at driving. He concentrates grimly on the task as if it were as important as life and death, staring ahead, but trying to talk flat out at the same time. He drives too slowly on the straight, and takes corners much too fast, and has no grasp of balance or relatives. I was concerned all the way and even begged him to let me take the reins after another close upheaval. Not that I can drive much better, but at least I do know to slow down at corners and speed up on the straights.  
  
"No, no, no!" he insisted. "I am quite fine. Not the most skilled whipster, I admit, but I can manage tolerably, I am sure."  
  
I wasn't quite sure, but I consoled myself with the notion that if he overturned us, he would have to be very gallant and handsome to make up for it. It was a wonderful drive; contrary to what you may believe, his head is not wholly taken up with trifles and ribbons and bonnets. We had a very interesting discussion about different species of trees which grace the road to Pemberley, (some people in my history would not believe I could ever be interested in such things). I must admit though that after several short minutes of that, he clapped his hands, (I watched the reins in concern), and said, "Enough of that dull stuff! Who is your favourite seamstress?"  
  
I smiled in amusement. I used to think I might get bored and tired with his ever-continuing theories and wanderings on clothes, but when I think about it now, it just serves to amuse me. And how many women have complained about their husbands being absolutely impervious to the claims of fashion? At least I shall not be one of them! And if I ever get tired of it, I shall visit my perfectly serious, thoughtful and boring sister Mary, and rush back to him in a day, happy and grateful to have a frivolous husband.  
  
No. That is cruel. If I did not wish to keep a strictly authentic diary, I would cross that out immediately. Mary is not all bad. She can find it in herself to be companionable, and I must admit I have never tried to draw her out. Poor thing, in fact, she must be very lonely sometimes. Father hardly tolerates her, and Mama is, frankly, on the far, opposite end of the spectrum from Mary and I doubt she would ever find it any comfort to have Mama's approval. Lydia and I tease her and Jane and Elizabeth are no more than tolerant of her.  
  
I feel terrible, diary. Thinking about it makes me feel like a horrible, unsisterly, inhuman beast. I hereby resolve to be kinder to Mary when I next see her. I don't have great hopes of becoming friends with her, but at least I shan't be conscience-struck whenever I think of it.  
  
Tuesday April 28  
  
I had a lovely day yesterday, diary! Mr Darcy, Elizabeth, Georgiana, Mr Beaupays and I went out for a wonderful picnic in the woods, and we picked blackberries and ate them. It wasn't so perfect an idea as I thought it would be because the wild blackberries ripped both mine and Georgiana's dresses slightly – which quite shocked Mr Beaupays into despair – and Elizabeth couldn't get near the berries because she is so large now! But it was still a delicious afternoon, and we were very lucky to have Mr Beaupays with us. He turned up in the morning, just as we were setting out, and Elizabeth, noting my sudden exuberance, invited him too. She is such a kind sister! I shall be always grateful to her for this trip to Pemberley, although I must say I shall never think of those horrible couple of days organising her baby's life without a shudder.  
  
Anyhow, we sat and ate heavenly food from the Pemberley kitchens, spread out over blankets, and drank Pemberley's prize wine. I must say that food was miles better than anything Lord Gosford's startlingly mediocre cook made for the Falconhurst picnic. And Mr Beaupays and Lizzy cracked jokes, and Darcy, Georgiana and I smiled and ate, and I had a very stimulating conversation with my brother-in-law (whose name I have never managed to pronounce, though urged to – I fear my sense of humour would overcome my sense of better judgement in calling him _Fitzwilliam_) about the importance of having a good clergyman in a district and what a difference it made to the overall climate of a town. Mr Beaupays joined in the discussion at some point and quickly manoeuvred the subject to something else, I forget what, but it was very interesting, and he was very nice to me. As soon as I got home, I flopped on my bed, starry-eyed, with a goofy smile on my face, and thought only of him. I think that this time, it is the real thing, diary. Lord Gosford and Sir Thomas were interesting interruptions in the story, you could probably say. But I have a curious feeling that Mr Beaupays _is_ who I will end up with.  
  
Reading over my diary now, I realise that from the way I have described him, you may have concocted an image of him in your subconscious mind that is far different and much worse than the real picture. It isn't like that. How can I explain what he is really like? It isn't so much what he says and does that makes him special; it is the way he smiles, or the way he takes one's arm when handing one down from the carriage. Or the way he pretends to be impervious and inalterably strong, but has a little vulnerable look in his eyes whenever he looks my way. Or the way I can tell – I am sure – that _very_ deep down, he does realise that some things are more important than clothes. (And of course he is very handsome but that doesn't matter at all! – only a little bit.)  
  
You see, diary, that he is really a very nice man and I should love holding dinner parties for all the cream of society.  
  
And today was a nice day also, although I did not see Mr Beaupays. But I had a lovely afternoon in the grove with Louisa, acting out the Scottish play. Louisa was Macbeth and I was everything else, except when Macbeth wasn't in a scene – then Louisa took another part. I can tell you honestly that we scared shivers down our own spines being the weird sisters. Shakespeare is just dramatic enough to be out-of-the-ordinary and just realistic enough to be dramatic and spine-tingling. I would love beyond all things to be a playwright! Well, maybe except for marrying Mr Beaupays, but still, I think it must be such a romantic life! Louisa wishes to be one too.  
  
"Kitty!" she said in inspired tones, eyes wide and hands grasping mine. "We should write our own play!"  
  
So we are going to. It will be fun that I am sure can never be equalled. She is to come around to Pemberley tomorrow, when Alice comes to visit Georgiana, and we are to start our play. We don't have any ideas yet, and although I have racked my brains, the only ideas that pop into my head are things like, 'a Scottish lord who meets witches who make him ambitious, which causes him to kill the king,' or 'a Moor who becomes jealous of another man's supposed hold on his Venetian wife and kills her', or 'two lovers whose families are desperately opposed to each other.' They are wonderful ideas but unfortunately have already been used. Isn't it an annoyance when you are trying so hard to think of something, and everything else pops into your head? Like when you say, "I would like to write a book like such-and-such," and then find it difficult to think of anything but the exact same storyline of such-and-such. Or, "I would like to write a song like such-and-such," and ever since then your head has been bombarded with the tune of such-and-such when you are trying to think of a different tune, all of your own. Such things have nearly caused me to rip out my hair in frustration many times.  
  
Wednesday April 29  
  
It may seem strange, diary, that I hardly talk about Georgiana. I suddenly realised in bed last night that I have scarcely said a word about her, except my first impressions and the bare facts. Well, we are not the best of friends, but still get along rather well indeed. Our personalities being so different, we find it hard to relate perfectly, but I like her very much indeed and think she is very sweet, worthy, and generous. Of course we have our differences and would find each other's constant company a little irksome. But we have our own friends, and do our own things, and therefore get along remarkably well for two very different people. I like her very much indeed, but would not be inconsolable if I never saw her again, just a little disappointed. That sounds very hard-hearted, but it is the truth.  
  
I also realised that I hardly mention a change that has greatly affected my life in general. Ever since I first heard Mr Wakefield speak, I have been thinking more and more about God, and . . . well . . . I think God just seems more real to me now. I have been reading my Bible more and I am starting to understand it more. I am realising now what it means to be a Christian, and it is certainly not just going to church and saying grace at mealtimes. The thing that cuts through the outer core and reaches my heart the most is the fact that I know I am guilty and unworthy of being loved by such a person as God, but that Christ still died for me, while I was still unworthy. There is a verse in the epistle to the Romans that says _'For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die. But God commandeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.' _I find it very hard to explain, while I know I am still the same Kitty, peacock and all (though trying hard not to be) – but I know that when I first discovered that Christianity wasn't just about putting your tuppence in the collection bag, I was plain scared. Because I knew that I wasn't there. But now, as I know more about it, and more about God, I feel much better, because I know now that God is a forgiving God.  
  
Well, that was a very large rant about something that used to be an absurdity and a bore to me. Pray forget it if you wish, but remember that it is important to me.  
  
I told you yesterday about the play-writing Louisa and I were to attempt to do today. Essentially it was a mess, but it was an amusement, I suppose. Our end result was not satisfying, but Louisa has persuaded me to think that when I am a famous playwright, I will look back and laugh and say, "That was the beginning of a rich and wonderful career." Hmmm. Maybe. Maybe not!  
  
I shall show you an excerpt of our inspired reflections.  
  
Enter butler.

Butler: _"Good evening, master." _

Master: _"Good evening, Samson. I am feeling very sombre tonight and would like to have a glass of port and a pastry, if you please." _

Butler: _"Will that be a blueberry or an apricot pastry, sir?" _

Master: _"Blueberry, please, with that wonderful glaze Cook does, and a sprinkling of icing sugar. And then call in my lawyer." _

Butler: _"At once, sir. Will you take the 1645 port or the 1701?" _

Master: _"It is a difficult decision. Which do you recommend, Samson?" _

There is a crash outside.

Butler: _"Oh, sir! I just heard a crash outside! What do you suppose it could be?" _

Master: _"Burglars, perhaps, or maybe wolves. I shall take my revolver and check."_  
  
It is a frightful embarrassment to me because it is so boring and it winds around in circles _dreadfully_. I don't think we had a plot at all. It was about a lord who has a son who has an incurable disease who wants to marry someone, and the lord is having trouble with funds and housebreakers, and the butler, meanwhile, is being threatened by thugs to murder the lord or his family will suffer, and the person the lord's son wants to marry has a dark secret we have not quite decided on yet, and meanwhile there is a war going on in the back garden, the French versus the English, and a lot of the play seems to refine upon Louisa's taste in food. I want to tear it up, but as I explained before, Louisa persuaded me to keep it. I feel she is overly optimistic. I don't think playwriting is written in the stars for me, somehow. But I will keep it, if only to humour her.


	9. Chapter Nine

**CHAPTER NINE**  
  
Thursday April 30  
  
I went for a lovely walk with Georgiana and Mr Beaupays in the shrubbery today! Georgiana was a little shy of him and kept her distance, so we managed to talk voraciously without excluding her. He told me all about his family.  
  
"My mother died when I was fourteen," he said, "and my father remarried two years later, and my stepmother's name is Cordelia. I must admit we found it hard to get along at first, as I missed my mother immensely, but now things are different. I have three sisters. The eldest is Laura, she is two years older than me at seven-and-twenty, and married to Sir William Carroll. They have a baby boy named Alexander. And my sister Viola is twenty, and unmarried. I think we are probably closer than I am to any other of my family. You see, Laura is sometimes quite vixenish, and Viola and I always used to form a gang against her! And my youngest sister is Elizabeth, and she is three years younger than you at sixteen, I believe, and only just out. I also have a stepbrother and sister; Jonathan is eight, and Rose, or Rosie as we call her, is two."  
  
I am glad I talked to him about it, for he has such a soft spot for his family that I discovered a completely new side to him that you would never know just by looking at that fashionable exterior.  
  
And then I told him about mine, and he thought the Bennet family story of the last few years was excessively amusing and fascinating – what with Lizzy hating Darcy, Mr Collins proposing to Lizzy and then marrying Charlotte Lucas, Darcy separating Jane from Bingley, Darcy proposing to Lizzy in Kent, (I know that because Lizzy told me the other day, blushing), her fiery refusal, the accidental meeting at Pemberley, Wickham running off with Lydia, Darcy playing the avenging angel, and then the happy ending when both Lizzy and Jane were united with the men they loved.  
  
Oh, I do like him a lot! He is not all baubles and finery, and if you know me at all, you will understand that I enjoy frivolity. And he does go deeper, even though as soon as we had finished speaking of our families, we were back to the best colour ribbon to go with a straw bonnet. He amuses me excessively and I feel very mature when I am with him. I wonder when he will propose to me?  
  
Saturday May 2  
  
Hello again, diary! I was unable to tell more of the enticing, exciting adventures of Catherine Sophia Bennet yesterday, because I was so busy having fun! What a nice excuse for not being able to do something! Much, much better than 'I was busy organising Lizzy's new baby's life' or 'I had to see the doctor and was desperately ill' or something horrid like that. However! I had a good day yesterday. There were a few bad points, but they pale in comparison to the good points, I think. Firstly, I went for a walk with Mr Beaupays, even though I had wanted to visit Louisa. And it was worth it because he hinted _five_ times that he wanted to marry me! It really does something for a girl's self esteem when yet _another _presentable gentleman wants to marry her.  
  
And then Louisa and Alice Brandon came around, and Mr Darcy took us all for a picnic. It was very kind of him, for Lizzy is now very big indeed and cannot leave home, and I could tell he wanted to stay with her. But she laughed and told him to go with us, that she was fine, and so he did, reluctantly. And we had a wonderful time! We all rode there, and we stopped at the vicarage on the way and invited Mr Wakefield. I had wanted to invite Mr Beaupays, but no one thought of it, and I felt too embarrassed to just ask, outright, "Can we bring Mr Beaupays?" Georgiana would have giggled and Louisa would have rolled her eyes and Mr Darcy would have secretly smirked and I would have felt especially frivolous. But I do like Mr Wakefield, of course, and the lack of Mr Beaupays did not render the expedition completely without fun. Not at all! The weather was beautiful that day and the food delicious. I found it hard to look at Mr Wakefield for a little while, remembering the other day when Sir Thomas cornered me, but he had evidently forgotten it, or pretended to very well. So after a while we were chatting away like usual, all awkwardness gone, which was a relief.  
  
"Miss Bennet," he said, "how long do you have left in Derbyshire?"  
  
"Still a month," I said. "I have enjoyed myself so much here that even a month seems too short a time!"  
  
"Yes," he agreed. "I have noticed that if you are away from home for a long time, as I have been, going home is very much a pleasure. But when I was younger and only went away for short trips, I always hated the very thought of having to go home, to normal life."  
  
"Precisely!" I said. "That is exactly how I feel. Right now I cannot really understand how I would ever want to go home, after the wonderful time I have had here, and thinking about all the limits there are at home. But time diminishes faults, and magnifies the good things, until home seems a positive pattern-card of perfection."  
  
"Very profound, Miss Bennet!" he laughed. "But you are perfectly right. I miss my parents and my sister at home in Yorkshire so much right now, for I have not visited my home since September last year. But I think when circumstances change, these longings change too."  
  
I wrinkled my brow. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Oh, as of this time, the vicarage is not really home to me. There is only myself there; no family, no friends. But I think if I got married, this would change. I probably would not long for home so much anymore, because I would be perfectly satisfied with my home in Derbyshire. And the same with you; for instance, if you stayed in Pemberley forever, you would miss your home very much after a while, but if you got married and stayed here, you would be quite content, most of the time."  
  
I laughed. "Most of the time?"  
  
"Oh, married people always have their little disagreements," he smiled. "I should know, being a clergyman. I am sure that Mr and Mrs Darcy have arguments now and then?"  
  
I raised my eyebrows and gave an expressive, "Yes!"  
  
He laughed. "Be that as it may, they love each other very much – it is obvious. I doubt Mrs Darcy ever wishes she was back home in Hertfordshire, meaning no offence to your home, of course. She is just perfectly happy with her situation, especially because of the approaching birth, and no petty little argument with Mr Darcy will change that."  
  
"That is very true," I said thoughtfully. "I hadn't ever thought of that before. I hope I can ever love a man that much."  
  
He was giving me a rather odd smile as I looked up at him again. I don't know why. He looked . . . oh, I can't explain it. I'm useless at writing anyhow. But he seemed, without being bitter, to look at me as if . . . I give up. I cannot explain it, no matter how hard I try, and I have sat thinking at my writing desk for at least ten minutes trying to discern _how_ it was that he was smiling. I don't think there is a single word in the English language which describes it even partially.  
  
We came to the river finally, sore from the saddle, and relieved to get down and EAT. I am afraid none of us were very dignified at all, but extremely ravenous, shovelling food down our throats as if there were no tomorrow. And it was delicious – anything eaten outdoors does seem to stimulate the tastebuds more than indoor fare, don't you think?  
  
The two men ended up going for a swim down the river around the bend, after sternly adjuring us not to walk that way, (we giggled and they couldn't help smiling), and we stayed behind, swinging our bare feet in the water and talking. It was lovely, I felt like a child again, barefoot and free. Close to nature, and happy, and careless. To my disappointment, Louisa _again _misinterpreted Mr Wakefield, and started teasing me about the way we had ridden together almost the whole way to the river. Honestly, she can sometimes be so blind. We are only friends – nothing more. I refuse to write any more about this particular topic because it is so ridiculous. I mean, can you imagine _me _falling in love with a clergyman?! Or, still more ridiculous, he falling in love with me?!?!  
  
I suppose it would be more possible than it used to be. My sister Lydia would burst into laughter at such an idea, but people who know me now may not.  
  
However, it has not happened.  
  
The worst part of the picnic was when I went for a walk in the forest by myself to look for flowers to pick for Lizzy. To my utter embarrassment, I came upon Mr Wakefield, who had gone into the forest to get dressed again after his swim. He was shirtless and wet, and stupid, _idiotic_ me skipped carelessly into a clump of bluebells, and froze at the sight of him, as did he. I am sure I have never gone so red, and my brain was screaming, "Quick! RUN, you dolt!" But my body refused to obey and I stood there, stock-still, staring at him, and right now as I write, a day later, my face still goes beetroot red at the very thought of it. Finally, he said, "Miss Bennet," his face as red as mine, but with a little smile on it, and I said in a tiny voice, "I – I – I am sorry," and rushed off. It took me a while to breathe again, and I had to sit down by the river and splash my face with water a little before I could go back to the girls looking semi-normal.  
  
He is a very handsome man, as I think I have mentioned before. It would be a wonder indeed if my breath was not caught in my stomach and if my eyes did not boggle at the sight of him and if my heart started to beat a little (or a lot) faster, and it does not diminish my love for Mr Beaupays in the least.  
  
It was totally impossible not to surrender to heightened colour when he and Mr Darcy came back, and although he would have seemed as unruffled as usual to anyone who was not particularly watching, he did seem a little red and conscious. Everyone noticed I was uncomfortable, of course, and asked annoying questions that I did not want to answer or be asked in the first place. How is it that I can be reduced to a stuttering, red-faced mess when something like this happens, and he can look as calm and ethereal as always?  
  
That part of the picnic is something I want to forget as soon as possible, and just get back to my usual calm, unworried existence.  
  
Luckily for my general wellbeing, Mr Darcy was anxious to get back to Elizabeth, and so we left at once. I rode at the back of the party with Georgiana and tried never to catch his eye, but sometimes it was impossible. He didn't stop being as kind as normal, and I am very impressed with how he behaves when embarrassed like that, but I really wished that I could just get back to Pemberley and into my bedroom so I could blush as much as I wished, in PRIVATE, and think about everything that happened.  
  
That night Lizzy started having pains. Mr Darcy panicked and called the doctor as soon as they happened, but when he got there, they had ceased. We spent the whole evening after that giving Lizzy massages and rubbing her feet, which are a little swollen. I am inclined to think she enjoyed the massages so much that she only pretended she needed them, but that is a very uncharitable way to think and I am sure that is not so. She also claimed she was craving chocolate cake and grapes, but when she said this, she had such a mischievous look in her eye that not even Mr Darcy, anxious to do everything right, was fooled. However, it was very enjoyable, because Lizzy was in a good mood, and we laughed the whole evening long – except for Mr Darcy, who was feeling nervous, inadequate and worried.  
  
Today – well, all of this morning pales into insignificance and I cannot gather up the patience to write it all down, for I have just received a note from Mr Beaupays that he is going to come around in but half an hour. The anticipation is enormous. Somehow I _know_, diary, that he is going to propose today!!!!  
  
Later  
  
Mr Beaupays called around here punctually, and took me out for a walk in the shrubbery immediately. He seemed rather discomposed which made me feel very smug, because men are _always _discomposed when they are about to propose.  
  
He sat me down on a stone chair, and stood in front of me, breathing quickly, and he said, "Miss Bennet, I have a certain proposition to lay before you. I beg you will not think me impertinent, but it has been in my mind almost as soon as I met you."  
  
I was finding it very hard to breathe normally, being in a flurry of nervous anticipation of the proposal that must follow.  
  
He sat down beside me. "Miss Bennet, my sister Viola is coming to visit me soon, and when she comes, I would like to have a surprise for her."  
  
My heart beat even quicker. How sweet of him! He wants to propose to me so that he can introduce me to his sister as his fiancée when she comes!  
  
"Will you decorate a bonnet for her?"  
  
I cannot believe it, diary. I had such great hopes for him, and when he said this to me, it was as if suddenly I was seeing him for the first time. Does he think of nothing but fripperies, and how they relate to everything? There is no way on earth I can marry such a man. There would be no romance in such a marriage, no mystery, no safety! It suddenly became wholly borne in upon me that a marital relationship with this man would be disastrous for my own happiness.  
  
It was such a shock, diary, as I had been so sure of everything before then. I just sat there with my mouth open. I stammered a little, then politely refused and ushered him out of the garden and back to his phaeton, refused his offer of a drive, and went inside to sit on my bed in horror at myself and my foolishness. Now that I think about it, I have deceived myself into being in love with three separate men over the last month. It is too much to accept. I must be crazed – destined for Bedlam, that's me. Fickle, fickle Kitty.  
  
I really don't want to go home, diary. Now my only chance of marital happiness is with Mr Montgomery. I could always try to cut Alice out and get Mr Winter, but it would be cruel, I suppose. Besides, they are pretty nearly engaged, and I doubt he would permit Alice to be cut out.  
  
I am going to cultivate my acquaintance with Mr Montgomery. I do like him. I have not had much to do with him over the past few weeks, and I think if I should get to know him better, I may very well fall in love with him. But this time I will be sensible and get to know him again before I declare myself in love with him.  
  
Oh diary, I feel dreadful. I don't much care about breaking Lord Gosford's heart, seeing what he did to me, (the scoundrel), but I know Mr Beaupays does like me a lot, and Sir Thomas did too. Am I a monster? I feel one. I am completely and utterly decided that there is no way in heaven or earth that I could ever marry any of those three now, but I led them on and flirted and acted just like the peacock Captain Harper called me. I don't think I shall ever be fit to marry _anyone_, the way I'm behaving. I hereby solemnly resolve never to flirt or lead anyone on or chase anyone again – _ever_.  
  
I wonder will Mr Montgomery be in the village on Monday? Of course I will see him at church tomorrow, but I have a feeling much of that time will be spent being civilly disdainful to Mr Beaupays. I could sit by the tree outside the smithy reading a book from the lending-library at the fashionable time and corner him if he walks past. We will see. 


	10. Chapter Ten

**CHAPTER TEN**  
  
Monday May 4  
  
I saw Mr Montgomery today. My wicked plan worked! – although it was not so satisfying as I had hoped. And I saw him yesterday also, but that is not nearly so exciting, because today I _schemed_, and today some very thrilling things happened. However, as this is a diary and not a randomly assorted collection of mixed-up pieces of paper, I am going to steel myself and write my entry in chronological order.  
  
Yesterday I went to church, rebuffed Mr Beaupays, and spoke to Mr Montgomery for about five minutes about not very much because he speaks quite slowly. There. I have done my duty. Oh, and also Mr Wakefield gave a very good sermon, as usual. Lizzy does not come to church now because she is so big with child. Or children, in this case. Mr Darcy hates leaving her.  
  
Today! Today I was truly designing and artful, like the wicked girls in novels, and I hatched a plan to catch Mr Montgomery in town! First thing in the morning, after an agreeable sleep-in, I took the carriage into Lambton with Betty, my maidservant, in the pretence of needing to go shopping, and to the lending-library, and all manner of things. Betty is a very excitable girl of a romantic temperament, and she was only too happy to sit on the green and watch for Mr Montgomery. It must have been a boring morning for any girl who has only a moderate sense of romance, but I tell you the truth when I say that to Betty, sitting in the same place for a whole morning and taking part in a romantic conspiracy is an idea of heaven. I am forever nervous that Betty will fall violently in love with someone highly unsuitable like Mr Darcy, just for the simple reason that he is miles above her in the social hierarchy and married to someone else. She would count it an honour to assist me to elope with _anyone_, no matter how unsuitable or undesirable they were; if I told her I was to elope with Mr Wakefield the _clergyman, _for heavens' sake, she would not bat an eyelid and instead throw her whole heart into it and declare to me that she would never forsake my cause, or something rather dramatic like that. It's like she lives, breathes, and feeds on scandal.  
  
But she is a very good maid, and she knows how to do hair in most attractive manners. All her romantics and die-aways, while sometimes rather frustrating, mostly just serve to amuse me.  
  
What am I thinking? Sometimes I go so completely off the subject of conversation I confuse even myself – especially myself! I was saying, Betty was look-out for Mr Montgomery. I was to go around each shop, spending as much time as possible in each one so that I could be sure of seeing Mr Montgomery if he came to Lambton, at whatever time. When Betty saw him coming, she was to run to whatever shop I was in, I was to watch until he came near and then time precisely my bursting out of the shop, ostensibly to get someone's advice on a certain matter – of course, he would be the nearest person, and I would have to demand his service, which, of course, he would be only too happy to give.  
  
There were a few minor glitches in the plan, in that when Betty saw him, she gave a little shriek, sprinted in the most obvious manner to the carpenter's where I was, opened the door, gasped "Miss Bennet – it's him!" to the whole shop, at that moment full of customers. Of course, my cheeks went deeply red, embarrassingly enough. That was the first glitch, and so because the whole store was now watching me curiously to find out who the latest _'he' _was, I could not bring myself to burst out the door and drag the poor man inside and expose us both to ridicule.  
  
So I waited, my mind thundering at Betty's lack of subtlety. I finally left the shop and changed to the lending-library, where I managed to lean on a dark, friendly bookshelf and gather my defences for a moment. To my great pleasure, _he_ came around the corner of the shelves at this point, saw me leaning back on the shelf, raising my eyes to the heavens and breathing deeply, and he said, in that slow, languid way – "Miss Bennet! I am very glad to see you! But are you quite well?"  
  
I, momentarily surprised, sprung upwards, but soon recovered my equilibrium. "Oh, I-I'm fine, thank you. And yourself?"  
  
He thought for a moment. "I'm good."  
  
"Well," I said after a pause. "That's good."  
  
"Are you looking for books?" he said with a smile.  
  
Don't misunderstand me, I like him very much, but if one goes into a lending-library, and is at that current moment holding several books, one expects others to know without needing to ask that yes, one is looking for books. However, that cherubic, white-toothed smile of his goes a long way in reconciling me to that temporary lapse in intelligence.  
  
"Yes, I am looking for books," I said dryly. "Have you read this one?" I held it up.  
  
"Yes, I have."  
  
"Did you like it, sir?"  
  
"It was good."  
  
I don't know what to make of him sometimes – he smiles so brilliantly and says the dullest things. "But I am finished now!" I smiled brilliantly at him – have you ever noticed that amazing smiles on the faces of other people are infectious? "Will you come and walk with me outside?"  
  
He smiled back. "Of course, Miss Bennet."  
  
We quickly edged out of the library; the librarian was looking at us suspiciously for talking in the rows. "How is your estate, Mr Montgomery?"  
  
"Good," he said, ambling along slower than I ever dawdle.  
  
To my embarrassment, we walked past Betty, who gave me a huge smile and a little squeal of excitement. I hope I am not the sort of person to condescend to those below me, but she really does forget her place sometimes. I don't think he noticed though. He doesn't seem to notice much. To think that I thought he was needle-witted when I first met him! Maybe it was his smiles. He is, nonetheless, very amiable though, I suppose.  
  
Suddenly Mrs Brandon, Alice's mother, came wobbling over to me as fast as her legs could carry her. "Miss Bennet! Oh, Miss Bennet!" she panted.  
  
"What is it?" I asked, amused. Mrs Brandon gets in a flutter at the slightest thing, and it is really quite funny when she does, for she is so fat and round and red.  
  
"Oh, Miss Bennet!" she gasped again, flapping her hands around. "The physician!"  
  
"The physician?" I prompted her.  
  
"Oh my, what a to-do . . . he has just left for Pemberley! Mrs Darcy . . . entered her confinement! He told me as he rushed for his carriage, and then I saw you and knew that Mrs Darcy would need you and thought, now, I must tell Miss Bennet, and –"she jabbered.  
  
"Elizabeth has entered her confinement?" I asked, shocked.  
  
"Yes, yes!" she said, waving her hands around. "And you must go at once, for the physician left quite ten minutes ago, and if I had known you were here, I would have quite _sprinted _to tell you, and –"  
  
"Thank you, Mrs Brandon," I said firmly, sounding much more calm than I felt. I thought for a moment, and remembered that the carriage was not to come back for me for another half-hour. I turned hastily to Mr Montgomery. "Oh, sir, will you take me to Pemberley? I know it would be a great inconvenience, but I would be eternally grateful if you could."  
  
"Of course, Miss Bennet," he said, although he sounded a _tiny _little bit reluctant.  
  
I told Betty, who, wide-eyed, had run over at the very hint of scandal or mystery, to wait for the carriage and tell them where I had gone, and then I followed Mr Montgomery, who was walking _maddeningly _slowly to his carriage. I jumped up beside him, and he proceeded to drive through Lambton at a snail's pace, while everything inside me, beside him, steamed and strained to be galloping towards Pemberley as fast as it was possible to imagine.  
  
We trotted along the country road, I clenching my fists as he leaned back lazily in the driver's seat. I could not believe it when he said, "Oh, it's a beautiful day, isn't it? I hope those rain clouds in the east don't come this way."  
  
I gritted my teeth and replied, "Sir, do you think it would be possible to go just a tiny bit faster?"  
  
"Faster?" He looked at me looking confused, and then his forehead unfurled. "Oh! I see, you want to get to Pemberley to see your sister. Well, I understand completely, but I don't much want to take this road any faster."  
  
I don't know how I handled sitting there beside him, knowing quite well that if I took the reins, we would be off in a moment and at Pemberley in several minutes. It was torture. The entire time I was thinking of Lizzy going through pain, and Mr Darcy in spasms of worry, and Georgiana about to faint, and I knew I _had_ to be there! My thoughts raged at Mr Montgomery and I must tell you now, I knew then that he could not be the one for me.  
  
After a veritable age, we arrived through the gates. I jumped down before he had stopped, flung a curt "Thank you!" at him, and ran inside. The butler told me where they all were, and I rushed upstairs to see Mr Darcy coming towards me with an ecstatic grin on his face.  
  
"Kitty! Oh, Kitty!" he said. "They are here, the twins are here! Elizabeth is fine!"  
  
It was the biggest shock and let-down of my life. I had been imagining all manner of terrible fates; my sister dead, the twins dead, Mr Darcy dead with worry, Georgiana practically dead after fainting all over the place... I thought at least that I would be desperately needed! But no! They didn't even need me to hold Lizzy's hand! And instead of at least _someone _dead, everyone was fine, and the babies were born in _less than two hours_. I had been imagining at least two days of pain, screams and worry – especially with the babies born a couple of weeks early.  
  
I very graciously congratulated him while my insides felt like worms fighting the Battle of Waterloo, and he ushered me into the room where Elizabeth lay on the bed, a little white, holding two bundles and smiling rapturously. Georgiana stood at her side looking adoringly down at the bundles, and the doctor and midwife stood across the room smiling.  
  
"Kitty," Lizzy smiled, and nodded to me to come and see the babies. All my senseless anger evaporated, (why had I felt so angry, anyway?), and I drifted slowly across the room, almost nervous to look at the two small lumps who had caused all this hubbub.  
  
Two little round faces framed with dark curls, sleeping eyes tight shut, pink little lips and rosy cheeks. Beautiful and perfect as angels. I simply stared at them, my mouth open in a small involuntary smile. WHAM – just like that, Kitty is besotted. I, who had detested the very thought of babies. Lizzy and Mr Darcy watched my face, smiling also.  
  
"Do you like them?" asked Mr Darcy.  
  
"Oh yes," I breathed.  
  
"They are beautiful," agreed Georgiana, obviously awe-struck and almost breathless.  
  
I looked at Lizzy and smiled. "I wish I could have been here."  
  
"Oh, I do too," she said, "but to tell the truth, I think now that it's over I cannot remember a thing of it."  
  
I bent down and kissed her cheek. Suddenly I straightened up again. "Lizzy," I said cautiously, "what are they?"  
  
"Human beings, with any luck," replied Lizzy with an amused smile.  
  
"No, no, you beast," I laughed. "Boy, girl, what?"  
  
"This," said Lizzy, stroking one's head, "is a boy. And this," kissing the other's, "is a girl."  
  
"Do you have names for them yet?" I asked, looking to-and-fro between Mr Darcy and Elizabeth.  
  
"Yes, we do," he replied. "My son here," (with relish), "is Ernest Fitzwilliam Darcy, and this little girl here is Isobel Janet Darcy." He smiled at Lizzy. "I wanted her middle name to be Elizabeth, but my wife here insisted she be named after her aunt Jane."  
  
"Well, after all, Lizzy did the hard work," I said.  
  
"Two hours labour? I call that very easy work," he grinned, teasing her.  
  
"Oh, you," she said threateningly. "If I was allowed to get out of this bed . . ."  
  
I am so excited about the twins that now it is midnight and I still cannot get to sleep. Georgiana slipped into my room about an hour ago and we shared a breathless conversation about how the twins were the most perfect niece and nephew ever seen, and I gloated over her that my sister Jane was newly pregnant and I would be getting another baby to adore – and hand back to the parent when they started crying!  
  
Georgiana smiled. "It won't be the same."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Oh, Kitty, this is the first time you have looked at a baby that is your own flesh and blood, and you are blown away by it and completely knocked over with love. In the future you will judge every niece and nephew by these two, until you have your own baby, or babies, and then you will wonder how you could ever have said that no baby could be more perfect than Ernest and Isobel were."  
  
I stared. It was the longest speech I had ever heard Georgiana utter. After an amazed pause I smiled a little bitterly. "I don't know if I will ever have children."  
  
"Why not?" Georgiana asked.  
  
"Well, Lord Gosford is a scoundrel, Sir Thomas repulses me because he is simply too old, Mr Beaupays is too frivolous, and Mr Montgomery drives me out of my wits. I don't think I'll ever marry."  
  
Georgiana raised her eyebrows. "Oh," she said gently. "Are you sure you're not missing someone out?"  
  
I thought hard for a moment. "I'm sure."  
  
She got up, smiling. "I'll let you discover for yourself." Then she left the room.  
  
I am completely confused.  
  
But now I think again of Ernest and Isobel, and a little smile comes over my face, and a warmth rises up inside me, and I think of perhaps one day holding my own little bundle, and knowing that it's _mine_, and watching it grow up, as I will not be able to do with Ernest and Isobel – I will see them in short bursts and long waits – and cuddling it as much as I want, and . . . all those things.  
  
I am coming across disgustingly sentimental and domesticated tonight. It is really quite shocking for someone like me.  
  
May 4 – the birthday of Ernest Fitzwilliam Darcy and Isobel Janet Darcy. How well that sounds! 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**  
  
Tuesday May 5  
  
Oh diary, how busy I have been! Lizzy only got out of bed this evening and so Georgiana and I have been acting both mistress of Pemberley and nursemaid. Lizzy is still rather tired, despite the quick birth. It must be draining, giving birth. She doesn't mind a bit, and is quite happy, especially when Mr Darcy is there and they are both holding the babies and acting like little children themselves – gurgling and smiling and almost _dribbling _over Ernest and Isobel. I suppose I can't really blame them. I almost do so myself. I'm not quite so doting a parent that I think it's delightful and amusing when Isobel vomits on my shoulder. But she is so adorable that I forgive her very quickly. And I'm not quite so blind to their faults that I think Ernest is perfectly beautiful when he is screwing up his face and screaming. But when he is sleeping he looks so sweet and faultless that I forget he ever did scream.  
  
Mr Darcy and Lizzy are truly dotty over these children. I'm sure it won't stay quite so extreme that they enjoy even the shrieks in the middle of the night forever, (last night was really a revelation to the entire household, and do you know how huge Pemberley is?), but I know without a doubt that Ernest and Isobel are very lucky to have parents that love them so much.  
  
It makes me think about my own. Was I once a tiny little baby whom my parents adored and thought perfect? Probably not, because I was the fourth child, and another girl at that. I can't see Father with a ridiculous smile on his face like Mr Darcy has had all today and yesterday, making baby noises, and I can't see Mama's nerves holding up to baby screams for long. It makes me feel a little envious actually. It also makes me resolve to thank God and never stop thanking Him for any children I may or may not have. At this stage, 'may not' is more likely a bet, as I am likely to die an old maid (see below). However, if it is a 'may', I never want to take them for granted.  
  
Diary, the truth has suddenly stunned me – I cannot marry any of the men here! I feel quite upset really, especially after being so sure that one of them would do.  
  
Wednesday May 6  
  
A few visitors came today, to congratulate Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, and to inspect the babies. Firstly, Mrs Brandon and Alice came, as Mrs Brandon thought she had a prime role in the drama in warning me of what was happening. She was most disappointed to hear that I got there too late. Alice was also announcing her engagement to Mr Winter. I congratulated her whole-heartedly. I don't think he and I would have suited anyway.  
  
I have just read that paragraph over, and realised that I think of every single, eligible man I know as a potential husband. It is quite wicked. I wish I did not do so. I am as bad as Mama. How lowering a thought that is! I suppose Mama has her merits, (I cannot think of any on the spot), but I do not exactly want to become like her.  
  
And then Louisa and Lady Posy came to visit. I didn't really talk to Lady Posy very much, on account of the last time I saw her being somewhat embarrassing, but after all, she did show me the bad side of Lord Gosford. And I am grateful that it happened then instead of after I was perhaps wed to him. But even though I was not feeling quite so aggressive towards her, I spent most of my time with Louisa, playing with Isobel while Lizzy showed off Ernest to Lady Posy. Already the twins share a bond with each other, I think. They lie in their cradles and look at each other, and if one picks Isobel up and carries her away, Ernest starts crying, and vice versa. I suppose it is comforting in a world of giants to have someone close by who is the same size as you.  
  
And then Mr Wakefield came to visit, as he is the clergyman and will be christening the babies. He smiled and cooed over them appropriately, and then we had a nice long conversation.  
  
"Yes, I am leaving in about three weeks now," I said breezily.  
  
"Not staying?" he asked a little cautiously, and why cautiously, I do not know.  
  
"Oh no," I said.  
  
He got up. "I had better take my leave now, Miss Bennet," he said. "I have some parish business to attend to."  
  
"Goodbye!" I smiled.  
  
He paused, took my outstretched hand and instead of shaking it, gave it a small kiss. "Goodbye." He is very sweet!  
  
I was most embarrassed when Lizzy came over to me as soon as we were alone. "Kitty dear, what is this between you and Mr Wakefield?"  
  
"What is _what?" _I said. "You're not falling for the same foolish presumption Louisa seems to have fallen for as well, have you?"  
  
"Kitty," sighed Elizabeth, "the tumultuous state of my own relationship with Mr Darcy before our marriage makes me determined not to allow anyone to remain similarly blind. Especially one of my own sisters. Although it does make a good story, much pain would have been saved if things had been a little different. In your case, you do not realise something about someone else, and you do not realise it about yourself, silly blind little Kitty! I feel bound, as your sister, to tell you before you mess it all up."  
  
"Thank you for your implicit trust in my judgement," I said, a little amused. "Whatever do you mean?"  
  
"Kitty, Mr Wakefield is in love with you, and you are in love with him."  
  
Blink wildly for a few seconds, gulp, stagger, and widen eyes. "What?!"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"Lizzy – you are raving mad."  
  
"No, Kitty, you are," she said calmly. "You have been trying to fall in love with all the other men while you've been here. You have failed with each one. You are so blind to your own feelings that you don't even realise that Mr Wakefield is another single man."  
  
"Well, just because he is a single man doesn't mean I have to fall in love with him!" I said indignantly.  
  
"No, Kitty, but that seems to be how you've been operating with all the other men." I made an offended face and was about to retort back but she continued, ignoring me. "And anyway, I've seen the way you talk to each other, the way you treat each other... Kitty, when he is with you, he is animated beyond what I have ever seen; he smiles, he treats you with the utmost gentleness, he discusses anything and everything with you – he kissed your hand before."  
  
"So, he kissed my hand. He thus wants to marry me!"  
  
"No, Kitty, I don't mean that." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It is just the combination of that and other things. And then there's you – every time the door opens you look up to see if it's him. If it isn't, you frown, and if it is, you burst into smiles immediately. You talk about him to everyone. Haven't you noticed how the other men always changed the subject when you brought up Mr Wakefield? If he thinks something, you think it is the gospel truth (though I am not insulting his very excellent judgement in any way). And when you are with him, the way you look up at him would almost put me to the blush if I didn't know you had no idea you were in love with him."  
  
"Enough, Lizzy!" I said. "I get the picture, but I assure you I don't feel that way at all!"  
  
She shrugged. "At least I tried."  
  
I am getting very befuddled. I may have sounded decided in my last comment to Elizabeth, but now my heart is running like wildfire and my stomach is jumping up and down. Do I, do I not? I tried to ascertain my feelings by plucking the petals off a daisy saying, "I love him, I love him not," but then I lost track of petals, tore up the flower in frustration, and got even more confused. I must say that I don't think I do, for how can you be in love with someone and not even realise it?  
  
Thursday May 7  
  
Diary. I am finding it very hard to breathe today.  
  
I went for a solitary walk in the woods because I was feeling very pensive and thoughtful, and who should I come across but Mr Wakefield. Just the person I really did not want to see until I had done some more thinking. We almost bumped right into each other, and both stumbled and started blushing. I had never thought I could ever see him blushing. "Miss B- bennet," he stammered as I whispered, "Mr Wakefield," at exactly the same time.  
  
"May I walk with you for a while?" he blurted out after a short but nonetheless uncomfortable pause.  
  
"Of course! Of course!" I said, trying to be normal but coming off sounding very hoarse and over-polite.  
  
We walked silently beside each other for a time. He seemed to be moderately comfortable while I blushed and perspired and adjusted my bonnet. The woods were very pretty, all shades of green, shadowy and quiet, and I tried to breathe deeply and calm myself down.  
  
Suddenly Mr Wakefield turned to me, and all my efforts for calmness were in vain. His eyes were not calm at all now. He was obviously nervous. "Miss Bennet, tell me –"He paused. "Do I have any hope? . . . Any at all?"  
  
I didn't say anything, but I just looked at him, and all at once, in those deep brown, troubled eyes, I saw everything I had done with him and talked about with him over the last few weeks I had been in Derbyshire and my heart started to beat even faster and I knew that he did have hope. And I mentally kicked myself as hard as I could for my intolerable blindness but it didn't hurt very much at all because suddenly I was grinning and happy – oh, the _superlative_ of happy – because I knew I was in love, and I knew that he, as unworthy as I am, loves me too. (Oh, I am an _idiot_! Again and again I ask myself, how could I have been so insufferably _stupid_!)  
  
He saw the beam on my face and knew at once, of course, but I said it. "Yes. You have a lot of hope."  
  
The smile that erupted on his face at that point was truly satisfying and complimentary, and so was the time that followed. We talked and talked and got everything out in the open and finally understood everything about each other.  
  
"I knew you had no idea I was rapidly falling in love with you," he said, "and you cannot imagine how painful it was watching men who _obviously_ did not deserve you," he laughed, "getting your attentions."  
  
"I'm so sorry," I said sorrowfully. "You know I didn't even give you a thought, for some obscure reason. The very idea of _Kitty Bennet _in love with a clergyman would have thrown me into spasms of laughter just a year ago, and even though I knew I had changed quite a lot, this knowledge had obviously not passed into all parts of my brain. I believe if I had thought about it even in passing, I would have soon realised that you were the one I loved. But instead of thinking about it, I ran after the wrong men. Maybe it was some subconscious feeling that I _did_ like someone; I just didn't realise who. It took Louisa and my sister to first suggest the idea to me, and then today . . ." I smiled and shrugged.  
  
"You found out?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He smiled at me for about the fiftieth time in the last two minutes. "I am so happy, Kitty," he said impulsively. "I suppose I must say Miss Bennet, but you know I cannot call you that now. And as for myself . . . my name is Henry. If you want to call me that?" he said, suddenly adorably unsure of himself.  
  
I smiled. "Henry is wonderful. I love Henry." I gulped, realising suddenly again that I actually _was_ in love.  
  
Henry didn't smile but instead moved towards me, taking my hands, with an unusually intense look in his eyes. My heart started pounding as I realised he was going to kiss me, and for one stupid moment I was scared, (yes, I am a peacock, but I have never kissed a man before), but it was beautiful.  
  
He drew away slowly, grinning in the most ridiculous way which made me grin even more stupidly than he. "Will you marry me, Kitty?"  
  
I stopped smiling. All at once my inadequacies and foolishness came pounding in upon me. "Henry, I don't think I am good enough for you," I said quietly. "You are so smart and wise and good, and I am silly and foolish and sometimes even wicked."  
  
"Not good enough?" he asked, astonished. "Kitty, I am often grumpy and unsociable and I am not at all rich. The thing always holding me back was _my_ inadequacy. Finally I conquer that and you tell me that _I_ am the superior one? You are wonderful and you are fun; you are natural and sometimes profound and you are cheerfulness itself. _And _I can talk to you about everything. Please marry me!"  
  
How can one refuse such a plea? 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**CHAPTER TWELVE  
**  
After a very long time, we managed to part at the gates of Pemberley, and I skipped inside, singing very badly. "Hello Lizzy! Hello Ernest! Hello Isobel!" I warbled in the direction of my sister and her children.  
  
Lizzy inclined her head in a knowing way. "Catherine Sophia Bennet? What have you been up to?"  
  
I blushed fatally, but was unable to school my expression into lazy incredulity. "Nothing!" It was a little too embarrassing to admit that Elizabeth had been totally right last night while I had been as foolish as ever.  
  
"You are suspiciously happy," she said, getting up and walking towards me in the style of an interrogator. "I surmise . . . that you are in love?"  
  
"Why ever do you think that?" I asked, evading the question.  
  
"Kitty, it is quite simple really – let me explain. You have been out of the house for at the very least two and a half hours. You left miserable and thoughtful looking, you return skipping, singing and smiling with a look of absolute satisfaction. _Something_ must have happened during your walk, and these somethings always turn out to be romantic encounters. Tell me, Kitty!"  
  
"I think Ernest wants something," I replied weakly, as Ernest waved a chubby hand in the air.  
  
"Of course he does not," she said. "You won't get rid of me that easily."  
  
"Oh, very well," I said, unable to suppress a smirk. "You are right now, you were right last night, I do love Mr Wakefield and he does love me."  
  
Elizabeth immediately went into raptures which I cannot be bothered writing in here, except that they were very long, and dotted with smug exclamations such as "I told you so!" all throughout. Then she sat me down, and made me answer all manner of questions, until I (almost) wished it had never happened.  
  
"He is going to Hertfordshire tomorrow to ask our father's permission to marry me," I said. "I told him that Father and Mama were coming to visit soon but he could not wait. I really don't see how he or Mama can see Mr Wakefield as anything but eligible. The only objection Father can have is that I am too silly for such a man," I sighed.  
  
I sounded calm but actually I was tremendously scared. What if Father refused his consent? I know Mr Wakefield would never elope, being an honourable clergyman and all that. And I want to marry him very VERY soon because now that I know for sure I am in love I want to fix things so he cannot get out of it. (I don't think he will, for he is the sort of man who is very decisive and who knows what he wants. I hope. Oh dear, all these doubts keep flying into my mind. What if I dreamed it all? Now that would be embarrassing.)  
  
Only Elizabeth knows because he has not obtained Father's permission yet. I made Lizzy promise to tell not a soul, even Mr Darcy, (it would be too embarrassing if somehow this was all a dream), and she promised in a sinister whisper that she would be as silent as the grave.  
  
Diary. I am so happy I cannot quite believe it has happened. _Why_ would such an intelligent man pick me?! It might be that theory that intelligent men pick foolish women so they can always be in command. But I don't think Mr Wakefield – Henry – is like that. And even if that is why, I will just make sure my hand is on top when we cut the cake.  
  
Twenty-four hours ago I was confused and befuddled and worried and upset and basically a basket-case. Now, I may not be sure that I haven't imagined the entirety of his feelings for me, but I know, without a doubt, that I love him. It makes me cringe to even think of my 'love' for the other men. A case of the boy who cried wolf, don't you think? I hope you believe me this time that he is the one for me.  
  
He is truly the best man I have ever known, and the nicest as well. He is perfect in every particular; I have yet to see the 'grumpiness' and 'unsociability' he claimed has a hold on him sometimes. Wait!  
  
Oh my goodness, he just came to my window! "Kitty!" he called, waiting for me to get to the window. "I know this is _grossly_ improper, but I am leaving very early tomorrow morning and I want to say goodbye!"  
  
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" I whispered anxiously when I ran to the window in my dressing gown.  
  
He blew me a kiss. "Of course not, you silly goose! I can hardly stand waiting the night before I obtain your father's permission!"  
  
"Oh Henry, please tell him I am not so silly anymore! I am scared he will warn you not to marry me!"  
  
"Wild horses couldn't keep me from marrying you," he said firmly. "If I have to, I will kidnap you. Don't give it another thought, my love."  
  
Of course this endearment made me quiver all over and swallow hard and I couldn't say anything for a few moments. Finally, "All right, Henry." Then suddenly I had a recollection. "Henry, did you know that my parents and my sister are coming here soon? To see Ernest and Isobel?"  
  
"Yes, I know," he said, "but I can't wait!" He laughed. "I must go now. I _am_ sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, not that you need it, but you see I _had_ to come and say farewell."  
  
"When will you be back?" I asked quietly. "I will miss you so much."  
  
"If all goes to plan and I ride hard, I will be in Hertfordshire tomorrow evening, and I will return on Saturday to be back in time for church on Sunday. I will miss you too, darling Kitty. Promise not to forget me?"  
  
"If you think I would forget you so quickly-"I said, but he interrupted me.  
  
"I know, Kitty," he broke in, smiling, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Now, I must be off, or someone will spot us, and we will be drenched in scandal. And you know that is entirely unsuitable for a clergyman of my calibre." He paused. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too," I said, and blew him a kiss, which he returned promptly.  
  
Now I am lying in bed with a foolish little smile on my face that I find impossible to wipe off, and there is no way I can go to sleep now. Whenever I shut my eyes, I see his face, and I thank God for giving me him. I _must _try to get some sleep. No, I don't see the importance much as he will not be here to see big circles under tired eyes, but that is not the point. I must get sleep because it is healthy, and because I know he would want me to. (Somehow I know he will not get much sleep tonight either. I will be willing his thoughts towards me every minute.) I must put this book down, and my quill, and be sensible.  
  
Oh diary I am finding it very hard to be sensible and logical right now!  
  
I think God is laughing somewhere.  
  
Goodnight.  
  
(I am a _fool_, a _dolt_, an _idiot_! Why did I not realise before today?! Smack on the hand, Kitty! There. Now I have knocked some sense into myself, I can bask in my love and go to sleep.)  
  
Friday May 8  
  
I have spent today wandering dreamily around the hills with Louisa. By necessity I had to tell her, for it was impossible for me to hide the blissful, bovine-like smile on my face all day. She was very pleased, and unlike my sister, refrained the whole day from saying "I told you so," which is very good of her.  
  
I'm afraid I wasn't very good company, for the whole day I was thinking of Henry and wondering where he would be and imagining my wedding dress and how well I would look in it. I think I will have to borrow Elizabeth's veil, for it is the prettiest veil I have ever seen and I think it would suit me exceedingly.  
  
If Father gives his consent.  
  
Which reminds me, Henry will be asking for his consent _as I write_. That makes me very nervous. What will Father be saying or thinking?  
  
Saturday May 9  
  
This is the awful situation I have been imagining ever since I thought about it. Henry asks to speak to him, and they go into the library and sit down. Then Henry says, "I confess I have fallen in love with your daughter Kitty, and I request your permission to marry her."  
  
Father leans forward in surprise and says, "Did you tell me you were a _clergyman_?"  
  
"Yes," Henry replies.  
  
"My poor fellow, on what pretext has my daughter persuaded you to marry her?" Father says.  
  
"Pretext?" asks Henry, puzzled. "On no pretext at all; we have fallen in love."  
  
"Fallen in love!" wonders Father out loud. "But it cannot be so! Kitty is the silliest being alive, my good man, perhaps excluding her sister Lydia, and I hardly think she would make a suitable wife for a clergyman!"  
  
"Really?" asks Henry gravely.  
  
"Yes, oh goodness yes," says Father. "I daresay she has not told you half that which she has done in the past! Why, she _encouraged_ her sister to elope with a certain scoundrel last year, she chases all the officers in Meryton, she . . ." And he goes through a list of all my various sillinesses until Henry is sitting quite shocked in his chair.  
  
"I am sorry for wasting your time, sir, I did not know all this," he says grimly. "I see now that asking Miss Bennet to marry me was a grievous mistake and I shall break all ties with her immediately."  
  
It is such a dreadful thing to think about, but so probable, that I cannot stop crying and imagining Henry coming back to see me and saying coldly, "I am sorry, Miss Bennet, but I see now that proposing to you was a mistake. I cannot marry you."  
  
Oh diary, if that happens, it really will break my heart. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
**  
Sunday May 10  
  
Relief! Henry came to Pemberley for breakfast this morning – Elizabeth had sent a note around to the vicarage inviting him, without telling me. It was just as I walked dejectedly down the stairs, _knowing _that all was lost, that he came in the door. Involuntarily my eyes lit up and I ran down to meet him, and then all my hopes returned as he grinned speakingly at me, taking my hand to kiss it.  
  
"He gave his consent?" I breathed.  
  
"Of course," replied Henry. "And he was very happy."  
  
Our eyes shone into each other's for a moment, holding hands, and then Elizabeth walked in. "Oh, I am glad to see you here, Mr Wakefield. I presume all went well?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, smiling a little consciously at being caught. "Mr Bennet was very happy to give his consent."  
  
"I almost cannot believe it!" I said happily. "Did he warn you that I am not a suitable wife for a clergyman?"  
  
"No," said Mr Wakefield firmly. "He is a sensible man and I think he knows that I am quite able to decide on my own who is a suitable wife for me."  
  
We went into the breakfast room, and we told Mr Darcy and Georgiana, who were thrilled for us too – good thing, because if they were not, I would have punched it into them.  
  
Church was lovely. All I could think about was that soon I would be sitting up the front, as _clergyman's wife_. It makes such a nice picture, thinking of me all pretty among the bunches of flowers. And Henry did a lovely sermon on 1 Corinthians 13 – the Love chapter of the Bible, if you didn't know.  
  
We are going to announce the engagement in a few days, when Father and Mama and Mary arrive to see Ernest and Isobel. The only thing I am worried about is what people will think. Everyone knows I am That Girl who flirted with almost every eligible gentleman in the area. But really it is such a small worry compared to everything else I feel.  
  
We are to be married from the Pemberley parish, because Father and Mama plan to stay in Derbyshire for a while. I am glad. If I was married from Longbourn, no one there would know how much I have changed. And Jane and Bingley will have to travel to Derbyshire for the wedding soon, (although they don't know about it yet), which will be in three weeks time, on May 30. Yes, it is a very short time, but I can hardly wait a week, let alone three!  
  
Lydia is not coming, and I am relieved. I don't wish her there to laugh at me marrying a 'stuffy _clergyman_, for heavens' sake' – I can almost hear her say it. And I couldn't stand making Mr Darcy stand in the same church as Mr Wickham again. Elizabeth told me about all that last night. And I feel ever so guilty that I could have persuaded Lydia not to run off with Wickham if I had tried. But as Lizzy says, these things are in the past now, and there is nothing I can do to change them. Neither she nor Darcy feels any animosity towards me for what happened between Lydia and Wickham, and she says it is not my fault at all. She makes me feel much better.  
  
Mr Wakefield came around for dinner, and we went for a walk in the shrubbery afterwards, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth following a short distance behind as chaperones. "Henry," I asked, "was Father surprised?"  
  
He smiled. "I won't deny that he was a little," he said slowly. "I explained that you had probably changed a lot, and then he shook my hand and said that he was glad, and said that if you loved such a man as I, it proved you had changed for the better."  
  
"That was amiable of him," I said. "And true."  
  
He laughed. "I wouldn't know. Would you have been able to love me a year ago?"  
  
"No," I said frankly. "I was infatuated with redcoats and nothing else would do. Now I have changed."  
  
"Kitty," he said, "why did you not think of me as an eligible suitor until a few days ago?"  
  
I sighed. "I'm not altogether sure," I said slowly. "I suppose the fact that I hadn't quite realised I wasn't so wholly opposed to clergyman as before – have you heard about my cousin Mr Collins? He is a clergyman, and such a pompous, slimy man that he put me quite off men of your order until recently. Henry, he really is horrid! Do you know, he keeps a special handkerchief in his breast pocket for the express purpose of wiping his forehead clean of the sweat which drenches it every few minutes? Are you not disgusted?! But it is not only that ... I know, Henry."  
  
"What do you know?"  
  
"You did not pursue me," I said quietly. "You didn't chase me or flirt with me or anything like that. You were there, but you didn't tell me you were there. I, being rather vapid most of the time, did not think about you because of that. You fascinated me. But you were different to the others. You were unfamiliar."  
  
He looked closely at me. "I think you may be right. Was it a good or a bad thing?"  
  
"Oh, good, definitely good," I said. "You being different is what made me realise I loved you in the end." I smiled.  
  
"Right from the beginning, from the very night I met you at that dinner party here, I saw something in you to love. I thought about you all evening, but I saw that the other men were pursuing you, and I suppose I just wanted to be, and naturally was, different."  
  
"I'm glad you were different," I said sincerely.  
  
He stole a quick look behind us. Darcy and Elizabeth were round the bend in the path and we had a few seconds alone. He grabbed me and kissed me at once, and my head spun, and then he released me just as quickly, and we kept on walking arm in arm. My face was red but I was laughing, and we had a wonderful afternoon. I love him so much. It makes me laugh that a true and proper clergyman can be so fun.  
  
"Did you meet my mother and sister?" I asked curiously, that evening, after we dined and sat socialising in the parlour – Louisa came for dinner, and Mr Winter, Alice and her parents too.  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
I watched his features carefully, combing them for any sign of disgust or mockery. Of course he showed no signs of either – he is too good and kind – but rather, looked perfectly normal.  
  
"They are very welcoming and kind, both of them."  
  
_Well, yes, Mama would be if you are to marry me, Henry_, I said to myself. "Did Mary like you? I am sure she did, for she admires clergymen excessively."  
  
"I cannot say whether Mary liked me above the ordinary or not," he said with a grin, "but I liked her. She is quite shy, I think, but not unintelligent."  
  
I smiled. "I'm glad you like her. I used to detest her, but now that I have been writing to her and we've both grown up a little and become more mature, we get along quite well."  
  
"I am glad," he said. "When is it that she and your parents are coming to Derbyshire?"  
  
"They will be here on Wednesday," I said. I paused. "Henry –"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Oh, don't worry."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"No, I feel silly."  
  
"I will not permit any wife of mine to keep things from me," Henry said firmly, but with a twinkle in his eyes and a kiss on my hand that belied his words. "Go on," he prompted.  
  
"Oh, no..."  
  
"Oh yes, tell me!"  
  
"Do you love me?" I asked finally, giving in, unable to hold back a smile.  
  
"Now whatever gave you that idea?" he said, kissing my hand again.  
  
"I like hearing you say it," I coaxed, grinning.  
  
"Kitty, I adore you, and for the rest of my days I will tell you that constantly."  
  
"Ooh, that's nice," I said. "Since we're being so open here, I love you too."  
  
**FINIS **

_Thank you all very much for reading this fanfic. I enjoyed writing it immensely. I got the idea from reading about how Cassandra Austen asked her sister Jane, in a letter, whatever happened to that Bennet girl, Kitty? Jane's reply was that she married a clergyman in Derbyshire._

_Thank you so much for the reviews. If any of you are reading this for the second time, you may recognise your own suggestions and corrections in here. I'm very much indebted to you._


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